


Convalescence

by Anonymous



Category: Castle (TV 2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Post-Season/Series 03 AU, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, basically if Beckett had let Castle take of her after getting shot in 3x24
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 59,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27287521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "I'm like a broken mirror, Castle. I look into it and see parts of me are missing, but I don't know how to get them back. I don't know how to find them again."Complete, updates every three days.
Relationships: Alexis Castle & Richard Castle, Kate Beckett/Richard Castle
Comments: 48
Kudos: 26
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Roy Montgomery

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FFN. I wrote this when I was like sixteen back when Castle was, you know, _airing_ , and it was pretty popular over there so I thought I'd port it over here finally as well. 
> 
> Posting on anon just to not overwhelm my subscribers with notifications for a fic in a fandom most of them have never heard of at this point ;)

“Roy Montgomery...taught me what it meant to be a cop.” Her first words are halting, unsure. There is a crisp white sheet of paper in front of her, but she is determined she will not look down. Just as she is determined she will not cry, not here, not now, in front of all these people.

“He taught me that we are bound by our choices.” There is all too much truth in that sentence. Captain Montgomery, more than anyone she ever knew, was bound by his choices. Choices the world must never know about. Choices that would no longer allow him to have died a hero’s death.

“But we are more than our mistakes.” He was. He was more than his mistakes, even...even the ones that had cost her mother her life.

Oh God. How can she do this? How can she stand at this podium, looking out at all these grieving faces and mourn with them a man partially responsible for her mom’s death?

No matter how much she had respected and liked him, she still has trouble forgiving him. Maybe she never will.

But as she looks out at the collection of people draped in black who are assembled here, she knows it doesn’t matter. This is about celebrating a life. And his life deserves celebrating.

“Captain Montgomery once said to me that for us there is no victory,” she continues. “There are only battles. And in the end the best you can hope for is to find a place to make your stand.” Another pause. Time to collect her thoughts, prepare herself to let loose her next words.

“And if you’re very lucky, you find someone willing to stand with you.” As Kate looks out at the audience, she knows they will take her words as a reference to all of Montgomery’s friends at the NYPD. And they are. But it also has a more personal note to it, and she hopes he knows that. With the specter of death looming over her, she hopes _he_ understands what she cannot yet say.

Castle appears pained.

“Our Captain would want us to carry on the fight. And even if there is...” She has to stop here, swallow, before she can go on. “Even if there is one—“

A shot rings out, and for a moment, she stands there, confused. She’s trying to make sense of the noise, the shrieks, the sudden pain in her chest. She is knocked down by someone, and only when she realizes Castle has landed on top of her does she know what happened.

The cries of panic seem to fade away until there is only them, no screaming, no sirens. They seem to fill the empty space in her chest where her life blood is draining out. As she looks up into his blue eyes, all her regrets about him, about _them_ , well up inside her.

“Kate, shh,” he says. “Kate, stay with me, Kate.” The pain and fear in his eyes is so immense it nearly blocks out her own. “Don’t leave me, please.” She’s shivering now, moving uncontrollably but his hands pin hers to the earth, keeping her immobile, keeping her grounded. She tries to concentrate on his voice, but all she can hear is a roar in her ears and the screaming wound in her chest. “Stay with me, okay?” She wants to, she wants to so much, but she can already feel herself slipping away. Desperately she stares up into his eyes, trying to hold on, trying to tell him all the things she should have said years ago. But her mouth refuses to open, and her tongue refuses to move. All she can do is listen. Listen, and try to hold on. But it’s futile. And she knows it.

“Kate...I love you.” Even these words of his, as much as they mean to her, cannot pull her back into his world. “I love you, Kate.” All she can think is that she’ll never be able to tell him the same. A tear slips down her cheek. She hopes it will tell him what she cannot say.  
Then the last of her strength drains out of her limbs and her head relaxes back onto the grass. Castle looks stricken. Her eyes close.

She’s vaguely aware of the people lifting her up onto a gurney. She’s vaguely aware of the sirens in the background, of Castle yelling after her, “Kate! Kate!” At first she doesn’t know why he’s yelling, and then she does. He is not with her anymore.

“Don’t die on me now,” another voice swims into her mind, but the pain is unbearable. It’s too much, too much to even register this other voice, however familiar it is. Someone is pressing firmly on her chest, but this only brings a wave of pure agony. She finally surrenders to the pain, riding on its waves and waiting to be washed up in the land of oblivion.

* * *

Richard Castle can’t speak. Can’t think. All he can do is drive. He maneuvers his car through the tightest of spaces between cars, spaces that didn’t even exist a second before. The car screeches to a halt just before the line at a stoplight, the first in a string of many. The next he resolves to just blow through. They are all barriers from reaching her. Kate.

Please don’t let her die, he thinks, but all his pleading thoughts cannot stop it from happening. He wishes he was in the ambulance with her, wishes that, if it comes to that, he can hold her hand as she passes. Kiss her cheek. Whisper one last time that he loves her.

Had she heard him, at the cemetery? He hopes so. But even more, he hopes she’ll make it. Because he doesn’t know how he’ll live without her if she doesn’t. It would mean the end of Nikki Heat, definitely. No matter that he had enough research to write a dozen books, with Beckett gone it would be unbearable to even consider.

He floors the gas pedal, swerving through traffic in his race to arrive before it’s too late. For a moment he thinks he’s beaten the ambulance there, but quickly spots the commotion in the hallway and sprints inside after them, jogging to keep up with the gurney.

Seeing her lying there so still...he almost stops breathing. Lanie is riding the gurney with the paramedics pushing it along. Her gloved hands are soaked in blood. So much blood.

“Kate!” he calls out, pushing past nurses and patients alike. Lanie doesn’t even glance up at him from her work.

Please let her be okay... He’s promising everything, everything he has to whatever deity is listening, if only she survives. He’ll attend every book signing Gina schedules him for without complaining. He’ll donate all the profits of his mostly-finished _Heat Rises_. He’ll never make snarky jokes at anyone ever again, if only she will be okay.

He hates this feeling of helplessness. He wants to do something. Anything to help the love of his life lying on the gurney. She’s so pale...God, she’s so pale. He wants to climb on the gurney, caress her face and tell her everything will be okay, but he can’t even do that.

“C’mon, Kate. You do not die on me!” The fear is all too evident in Lanie’s voice and it only makes Castle’s heart beat faster. “Stay with me! Stay with me!”

A doctor pushes past Castle and catches up with the gurney, running alongside it. “Single GSW to the chest, initially unresponsive, lost vitals right in front of us,” the EMT lists off. Hearing the words, even in doctor speak, is a blow to Castle. Please let her be okay...

“Stay with me! Do not die! C’mon, girl!” Lanie presses down on the wound with even greater fervor, a wild light in her deep brown eyes.

Castle’s winded now, he’s been running at full speed to keep up in his heavy funeral clothes, but he doesn’t relent. He’ll follow all the way to surgery if they’ll let him, and maybe even if they don’t. She won’t die, she _can’t_ die...

“Set up for a chest tube, trauma one!” the doctor shouts to someone Castle can’t see. “Switch, we’ve got this!” he instructs Lanie. Though it’s irrational, Castle doesn’t want her to let go. He trusts the ME to hold her in this world more than the doctor. Lanie loves Kate almost as much as he does.

“This is my friend, you understand me? She’s my friend!” Lanie belts out. She does not release her grip on Beckett.

The doctor grabs on. “Then let us save her life.” Lanie looks down at Beckett, so immobile she must be unconscious. He wants her to be unconscious. He doesn’t want her to have to go through this, experience this hellish nightmare.

“Don’t let go,” he whispers as Lanie steps down, whether to Lanie or Kate he doesn’t know. He catches up to Lanie, standing close to her as Beckett is wheeled away. She looks so fragile. His instinct is to run after her, protect her, but he knows he’d only be in the way. It’s up to the doctors now.

Lanie sniffles and pulls off her gloves. Castle puts an arm around her and she leans against his chest. Neither of them can hold back tears as Kate disappears around the corner.

* * *

Bright lights. Bright lights behind her eyelids. Shouts of alarm. “Kate!” Castle? Or a figment of her imagination? A machine beeps incessantly and her mind is too muddled to think about what it means. Pain explodes again as her body is shunted to the side and prodded. She’s only aware of flashes now, snippets of conversation.

“We have a rhythm. Let’s check for breathing.”

“BP is 86 over 60.”

“C’mon. Stay with me. Stay with me, Kate, I got you.” Castle? She wants to reach out to him, but she can’t. She’s trapped, trapped inside her own mind. Everything is a jumble, tinged with red and pain.

“Okay, we can’t wait. Set up her intubation.”

“There’s too much blood.”

“Blood pressure’s still dropping.” The words are coming faster now, clipped fragments of a conversation she is not part of.

“Thirty-one year-old—pulmonary vein—let me sew her up.” She’s frantic now. Something’s wrong, everything’s wrong, things should be getting clearer, not fuzzier. Then she realizes. She’s dying.

“—dropping critical—distended—Scissors!” The sounds are getting further away now and her mind feels sluggish. Castle, she thinks, but the idea she’ll never see him again is almost too much to bear. I love you, Castle. If only she had said it before all this.

A final breath, more of a sigh, really, escapes her body as she is engulfed in white light. She’s floating away on a cloud.


	2. So Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle and the others await news at the hospital.

A doctor approaches them, and Jim and Castle both look at the same time. The longing and fear in their eyes doesn’t even give the doctor pause, but he ignores Castle and addresses Jim. Lanie buries her face in Esposito’s shirt, murmuring, “Javi...”

”Are you Jim Beckett?” Castle half wants to hug the doctor, half wants to strangle him for keeping them waiting so long. But all he can manage is to stop pacing and listen attentively, heart thudding in his chest.

“Yes, I’m Jim.” His voice shakes.

“Your daughter survived the surgery—“ There’s a collective sigh of relief from those assembled. Tears of a different kind fill Lanie’s eyes as she hugs Esposito even harder. “—but during the operation, her heart did stop once. We’ve had to put her into a medically-induced coma to heal.”

“You let her die?” Castle’s voice is broken, quiet. He feels nothing now. The world is numb, disjointed. “We’re hopeful that when we reduce the drugs she’ll wake up naturally.”

“And if she doesn’t wake up?” Ryan’s hushed whisper is so quiet that no one but Castle and Esposito, who are closest to him, can hear it. “If she doesn’t wake up?” He says it again, louder, putting a voice to the fears shared by all of them.

Castle stands there mutely, trapped in a fantasy world where Kate’s eyes have ceased to blink, a world where her chest has ceased to rise and fall, a place where she’ll never again tell him, “In your dreams, Castle,” in that snarky voice he loves so much. Without Kate, there is no “Always.” He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to write about death—or love—again.

“Then there will be nothing else we can do for her,” the doctor answers sympathetically. “But we are optimistic about her recovery. She was the very picture of health before the incident.”

“Thank you,” Jim says, nodding with a crushed look. He does not appear comforted by the doctor’s last statement.

A new feeling is rising in Castle as he resumes pacing, replacing the emptiness of the moment before. He is angry. He is angry at himself: that he couldn’t save her, that he couldn’t knock her down in time, that he never had the courage to tell her how he really felt until she was dying in front of him. He is angry at the doctors, that they hadn’t done enough to for sure save her, that they could help when he could not. He is angry at every single stoplight and driver between the cemetery and the hospital that had slowed them down in their race against time, against death.

New footsteps approach them, loud and smacking against the tile floor. Castle looks up just in time to receive Josh’s punch. “You were supposed to keep her safe!” the MD shouts at him, pulling back his arm for a second swing. Castle’s right cheek throbs, but his heart hurts even more as the words cut deep into it. They hit at his very core because he knows Josh is right. But coming from _him_ , Castle’s rage boils over. This is Josh, motorcycle boy, whom he can hate with impunity for his role in her life and for not working harder to save her. He pulls back his arm to deliver a swing of his own.

“Dad!” Alexis doesn’t know what she has just circumvented as he encircles his arm around her and she hugs him tight. Right now she is just his teenage daughter, white and scared for the life of a woman she had looked up to and respected. Martha speeds along behind, throwing her arms around them both with an exclamation, “Oh, Richard!”

“Mother, Alexis,” he breathes, squeezing them tightly to his body.  
“How is she?” Martha demands at the same time Alexis pulls back, saying, “Dad, is she okay?”

“The surgery went well,” he tells them evasively. Because he cannot bear to say the other part, the last part. Saying it aloud might make it true.

Alexis hugs him again, her warmth and cherry vanilla scent a comfort in and of itself. She and his mother lead him by both hands to a set of three chairs next to Lanie and Esposito. The two haven’t disconnected since Esposito first arrived, and they are staring blankly off into space, each lost in their own thoughts.

Castle sinks down into the seat, tired from his run and relentless pacing. Jim takes Josh off to the side to speak to him quietly and again a knot of anger forms in the pit of his stomach. He hates that Josh has more of a right to be here, waiting, than he does. He will get to see her before Castle does, kiss her before Castle does, and whisper sweet things in her ear before Castle does. And as he sits there in that lobby, surrounded by his family, friends, and coworkers, he realizes that he won’t even get to say these things to Kate, second or at all.

Beckett, he reminds himself. The surname leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. To him she is only Detective Beckett. She belongs to someone else, and a panicked admission of love doesn’t change that. She belongs to Josh, not to him. He is only her partner, and, if he’s wrong and his feelings aren’t reciprocated, that is all he will ever be.

The single tear at the cemetery...what did it mean? He wants to believe that it was her reaction to his words, an unspoken message saying she shared in his sentiments. But another part of him knows it could just as easily have been the shock of a bullet that evoked the tear, an involuntary action, the fear of death. Meaningless. She might not have heard him at all. Beyond the prospect of her death that hurts the most, he thinks.

Eventually Josh takes his leave of them after another hostile glance in Castle’s direction. Jim sits down across from Martha and puts his head in his hands.

Three hours later finds them all in the same exact positions, sitting a vigil for a gravely injured police officer who means different things, but so much, to each of them. To Jim, she is of course his daughter. She is the daughter whose strength never flagged after her mother’s death and who saved him from drowning his pain in the depths of a bottle. To Lanie, she’s a loyal best friend. To Ryan and Esposito, she is the star of their team, the best detective in all of New York City. She’s their friend too. To Alexis, she’s a role model, and maybe even sometimes a surrogate mother figure. To Martha, she is the woman her son loves, and through her motherly duties Martha has come to care deeply for Kate as well.

To Castle...all the words in the world can’t describe who she is to him. She is the love of his life, the partner who can change from tender to badass in two seconds flat. She is the one who respects the victims as people and not as meaningless names on the page. She is beautiful, intelligent, and determined—extraordinary in every way. And sexy. Very sexy. Not even her lying on her deathbed can make him forget that.

She means so much to all of them. He hopes she knows that, wherever in this hospital she is. He hopes she can feel their love and support.

“You can see her now,” the doctor says to Jim. Castle hadn’t even noticed his approach. The MD takes in the motley party of seven assembled in the lobby, looking up at him with a glimmer of hope for the first time in four long hours. “Only two at a time, please. The observation room isn’t that big.” Castle rises immediately, second in speed only to Jim. None of the others stand but merely look at him. They all know and accept what he hopes she knows. They all know exactly how much he loves her.

“Come this way,” instructs the doctor, and he and Jim follow mutely. Somehow, in Castle’s mind, he knows that if he sees her then everything will be all right. Once he has seen her, seen proof for himself that she lives on, he can just will her to keep going.

Nothing he has ever seen or done prepares him for the army of machines keeping her alive. They beep and whirr and chug, a strange cacophony to represent priceless service they provide. Inanimate and inorganic as they are, he feels indebted to them. They are safekeeping the one person outside his family who means the most to him.

Jim steps closer to the glass, hungrily devouring the sight of her. She is pale—so pale—and so still that the only thing convincing him she is still alive is the steady beep of the machines and the network of wires connecting her to them. If she had died, they would have taken out the wires. As he stares through the glass searching in vain for any sign of life, it momentarily occurs to him how much this little observation room reminds him of the one at the precinct, just with white-washed walls and more clutter.

He longs to press his hands to the glass and get closer to her, never mind the hospital staff’s displeasure. He longs to burst into the sterile room and kneel beside her, take her hand. He wants to stroke her hair and reassure her that she is safe now. Everything will be okay.

And, to a lesser extent, he wants someone to do the same for him. Minus the hair-stroking part.

There is nothing left to do here but stand, so he slips out the door. The others will all want to see her as well, and if he can’t wrap his arms around Kate then the next best thing is Alexis. He nods to Lanie as she extricates herself from Esposito’s grip and stands, anticipation glittering in her eyes. Alexis leans into him over the wooden arm separating them, her presence a warm comfort. She’s always been cuddly, but right now he needs her more than ever. He’s vaguely aware of time passing, of Jim and Lanie returning, Ryan and Esposito’s departure, and finally Martha’s taking of food requests.

“Do you want anything, Richard?” she asks. There’s both sympathy and pity present in her blue eyes.

“No, thank you, Mother. I’m fine,” he says listlessly. She frowns slightly before trotting off to the vending machines, gaudy handbag dangling from one arm.

“Are you okay, Dad?” Alexis asks. As he looks down at his beautiful daughter, he can’t bear to lie to her.

“I don’t know, Alexis.” She seems to accept this answer and it strikes him that she’s much older, much more mature than he gives her credit for. He misses his little girl. “After Gram gets back, you should go home with her.”

Alexis pulls away in shock, hand on his chest. Indignation flares in her eyes. “What? No, Dad, I’m not leaving you!”

“Yes, you are.” His voice is half-pained, half-emotionless. He wants to remove her from this awful situation. “You have school tomorrow.” He doesn’t realize that no matter where she is physically located, her heart and thoughts will be here with him and Kate.

“I don’t care; I don’t—“  
“There’s nothing you can do here. Go home, go to school for the last week. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

“Dad...” she says, crushed, but there’s no arguing with him when he’s in this state. When his mother returns, he gives her the same instructions. Martha’s not happy about it, but she obeys.

With Martha and Alexis gone, Castle leans heavily on the arm of his chair. Now that someone has already left, Esposito and Ryan get up to go as well, saying that they’ll head back to the cemetery to check up on the crime scene before calling it a night.

“I’ll come,” Lanie says. A sense of purpose has been added to her demeanor. “I can help CSU analyze any clues the sniper might’ve left.” Esposito nods his assent and the three take off.

Now it’s just Jim left for company. Though neither of them says a word, they move together into the observation room to sit instead of the lobby. He doesn’t know how long they sit there, keeping watch over her, before Jim speaks.

“When she was little...” Jim’s eyes are closed, words hesitant. “When she was little, Katie used to be afraid of needles. She said they’d accidentally puncture all the way through her arm and leave a hole there. I remember when she was five we had to take her in for a tetanus shot before kindergarten. I held her hand the whole time and told her a story about a unicorn that grew wings and flew to the moon.” Castle’s spirits lift, just a tiny bit. “Now when I see her with all those tubes attached to her, I wonder if she ever got over that fear, or she just hid it deep down inside. I wonder if she was scared when they put them in.”

Castle considers what to say for a moment. “I’ve caught killers alongside Kate for three years. She’s nearly fearless.”

Jim laughs a hollow laugh. “Not by a long shot, Rick. Not by a long shot.”


	3. Please Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beckett wakes up.

Fifty-two hours, twenty-three seconds. No, he hasn’t been counting. He has an app on his phone that has never served a purpose until now.

The silence sits around them, heavy. She’s out of surgery, he thinks. As long as she wakes up, she’s going to be okay. Even with the conditional, this thought makes him hope.

Jim, across from him, looks even more anguished than he, pale with tight lips, drawn skin. He wants to say something, anything to break the silence, but he can find nothing. He is a writer with no more words in his arsenal.

The time for sharing stories from Kate’s childhood is long since gone. The time for talking about much of anything is gone.

Kate’s still in ICU. No one has been allowed inside to sit with her yet. They say her immune system is too fragile to handle visitors right now, and besides, she hasn’t woken up yet. That’s what worries them. She hasn’t woken up.

At first, the doctors told them not to be too concerned. They had just reduced the medication, and it would take one to two hours to wear off completely. Castle remembers the happiness he felt at that news, the happiness he saw mirrored in Jim. They had chatted and talked inconsequentially then, spirits lifted by the thought that soon they could again see Kate’s beautiful brown eyes and maybe even witness a smile.

That was four hours ago.

Briefly Castle considers calling Alexis from the observation room. Her voice would cheer him up again, remind him that all is not yet lost. But to do that would be to tell her that Kate might not live, and he can’t bear the thought. He won’t burden her with it, no matter how much pain he’s in. Even if he’s received five desperate texts from her over the course of the day, plying him for news. He won’t share until...until it’s definitive either way.

His phone’s screen lights up, showing Caller ID. It’s Alexis. He gives Jim a questioning look, and when the older man nods Castle answers it. “Hey, Alexis.” His tone is as upbeat as he can make it, but it’s still decidedly disconsolate.

“Dad, you didn’t respond to any of my texts! Is something wrong?” Her voice is nearly hysterical.  
“Sorry, Alexis, I should’ve replied. They’ve taken her off the drugs, so Kate should be coming around any minute now.” He doesn’t mention _how long_ ago they took her off.

“I was so scared,” Alexis says. There’s a pause, and he can just imagine her biting her lower lip on the other end. “Will you come home tonight?”

Hearing that breaks his already fragile heart. “Yeah, I will. Of course I will, if you need me.”

She’s breathless on the other end. “Thank you.”

“Rick. Rick!” Jim is motioning to him frantically.

“Alexis, I have to go. I’ll see you later!” He ends the call, peering through the glass to see what Jim is pointing to.

Her eyes. Her eyes are open.

Castle just might weep for joy as he sees her blink, once, twice. He pulls the door open to the hallway with rampant enthusiasm and hails the first person in scrubs he can find. He and Jim watch from behind the glass as the short Asian doctor pulls on a surgical mask and enters the room. There’s no sound coming through the mirror, but they both know enough of what’s going on by watching doctor and patient interact.

A tear makes its way down his face, leaving a salty trail behind it. He doesn’t wipe it away. She’s back. Kate’s back.

* * *

Once she opens her eyes, she’s aware of all the sensations. The bright white lights of the room. The whirring and beeping of the machines. The itch in her arms and hands where IVs crawl under her skin. The stickiness of the electrodes attached to her forehead and under her garments. And a dull ache all over her chest and midsection, centering on the place the bullet struck her.

Even this amount of thought and sensation has made her unbelievably tired. So when the nurse enters the room and begins to ask her questions, every word she says is a blur. The only part Kate catches is that it’s been two days.

Two days. Castle. And her father. Esposito, Ryan, Lanie. She wants to see them; she wants to see them all. But she’s just so tired...

“Miss Beckett, there is a visitor who would love to see you, if you feel up to it.” Kate is momentarily distracted. She has seen Castle through the window, and his eyes are positively glowing with happiness.

“Castle?” she asks. Her voice is gone, raspy at best. Her throat is dry, parched, and just then her head begins to throb as well. The only parts of her that remain relatively painless are her feet.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s your father. Only immediate family members are allowed in this section of the ICU. Should I let him in?” The nurse appears truly contrite.

“Yes, please.” The nurse bustles off to prepare her father, but Kate has eyes only for Castle. He smiles, a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. He places a hand against the glass, the closest he can get to touching her. It quickly reshapes itself into the classic Vulcan Salute. The corners of her mouth curve upwards ever so slightly. Castle.

Then she remembers. She remembers the shooting. She remembers the profession of his love that followed. And all of a sudden, everything that seemed so natural, so easy, so simple, so _right_ a second ago is complicated beyond belief. Her brow creases and his grin falters at the sight of it.

“Katie!” Her father’s evident relief washes over her, distracting her from the man in the window. As he sits on the chair beside her, he too is wearing a paper mask, but pure love blazes in his eyes.

“Dad,” she says. A true smile this time. She discovers how much it hurts and quickly lets it go.

“You had us worried for a while there.” He clasps her hand in his large calloused ones, disregarding the tape covering them to hold the needle in place. She frowns slightly. She doesn’t want them to worry.

“It takes more than a bullet to stop me, Dad,” she says sleepily. He notices.

“You should go back to sleep,” he says. “I’ll be sitting right here when you wake up.” Her eyes are already closing, but she makes one last effort to speak. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

* * *

She’s asleep again. Is it normal for patients to sleep that much? She’s been in a coma for two days, and yet she still can’t manage to stay conscious for more than a few minutes.

Castle stops himself. He’s picking at something that turned out better than he had hoped for. Not only has she awoken from the coma, but she _saw_ him. She knew he was there. And she smiled, just a little bit.

Castle is ecstatic. She has not rejected him for his panicked admission of love. They are the same as they ever were, if not better, in that regard. She’s accepted it. She’s his, and he is hers. She’s _his_.

He types out a quick text to Alexis, knowing she’ll pass the good news along to Martha. Then he calls Esposito. It’s picked up halfway through the first ring. “Esposito.”

“Hey, it’s me,” Castle says.

“Castle. What’s the news on Beckett?”

“She’s woken up!” Castle rejoices.

“Yo, Ryan!” Esposito hollers to someone nearby. “Beckett’s awake!”

There’s a muffled, “That’s great!” from the other end of the line.

“Have you got anything on the sniper?” Castle asks.

“Not yet, no,” he answers. “But we’re still working on it. It’s been a hectic couple of days, with the new Captain coming in and everything.” Castle had forgotten about that in the midst of his misery.

“Beckett’s case should be most important,” Castle says. He’s trying to relay the overhanging tension he feels over the phone, but he fears he’s not getting the point across. He needs—she needs—they _all_ need—that sniper found, brought to justice, put away for good.

“Dude, you think I don’t know that? We’re running down every lead we get, no matter how small. But nothin’s turned up yet.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Castle apologizes.

“Nah, it’s cool, bro,” Esposito replies. “I get it. We’re all worried about her.”

“On that thought,” Castle says hurriedly. He’s anxious to get home and see Alexis, but he has to get this done first. “Is there any way you can get a protective detail over here? I can’t help but feel like she’s a sitting duck in here, and if the sniper failed once, he might try again.”

Esposito swears softly. “I never even thought of that; we’ve been so focused on finding the shooter. I’ll talk to Captain Gates about it right away.”

“Thanks,” Castle says. “Tell Lanie about Beckett too.”

“I will.” He hangs up.

Castle’s euphoria lasts him the entire drive home and even into the loft. Martha envelops him in a big hug upon arrival, and Alexis jumps down the stairs with her phone pressed to her ear. “Ash, my dad just got home. I’ll talk to you later!” She discards the phone on the table and leaps into Castle’s open arms. “Dad!” It’s a full minute before she releases him. “Detective Beckett woke up?”

“Yeah.” He grins again; he can’t help himself. “Yeah, she did. She’s going to be all right!” She squeezes him tight again. “So, fill me in: what have you been doing the last couple days?” A twinge of guilt touches him; he’s barely seen his daughter since he sent her home from the hospital.

Her smile fades as they sit down on the couch together. “Well, I’ve been trying to focus on school, like you said. I only had my English and math finals today, but I was really distracted the whole time. I think I did okay. I mean, I calculated that I needed 33% on the English final and 40% on the Calculus final to end up with A’s, so...”

Castle smiles. That sounds like his daughter. “I’m sure you did wonderfully.”

“I’ve also been talking to Ashley a lot. He’s a really good listener over the phone, Dad...I’m glad you didn’t scare him off waving that antique gun around.”

He kisses her forehead. “I’m glad too. But you know what I’m thinking now?”

“What?”

“Celebratory ice cream.”

Alexis grins, racing him to the freezer to claim the last few scoopfuls of chocolate in the container. They both end up with a hand on it, but Castle is guarding the silverware drawer. For a moment it’s a stalemate, and then she tugs and pulls it from his grasp. He negotiates two bites for access to the spoons.

He treasures times like these with his daughter, well aware that in a years’ time moments like these will be scarce and hard to come by.

When they are both so full they cannot eat another bite, Alexis gives him another hug and bids him goodnight. Castle retires to his room as well, but as he lies on his bed all his fears come back to him. He feels guilty for leaving her in the hospital even though she won’t be alone there. He’ll return first thing tomorrow morning, wave at her through the observation room window. But it’s poor substitute for what he really wants to do. He wants to be in that room. He wants to be the one holding her.

* * *

The second time she wakes, her father is still there. He smiles down at her, happiness spread across his whole face. “Hey, Katie. How do you feel?”

“I’m okay, Dad,” she replies. But she’s not. She’s exhausted and in pain. There’s a hardness in her eyes that wasn’t there before, a tension in her every feature.

He smoothes back her hair. “You were very lucky. I’m so glad you’re safe.” Lucky. She doesn’t feel lucky. She feels weak, and she hates that he’s seeing her like this. “Tomorrow they’re going to move you to a different section of ICU where you can have visitors. They’re all excited to see you.” He smiles. “Especially Rick.”

“Good,” she says in a hollow voice. No, this is all wrong. She doesn’t want any of them to see her like this. She can’t pull off Detective Beckett in this hospital bed. She can’t pull off Detective Beckett while lying immobile on her back, fighting every moment to stay awake.

“There’s someone who wants to see you now, though,” her father says, mistaking the pain in her eyes for bodily pain.

“I thought no one but family is allowed in?” she murmurs.

“He’s different,” Jim says. He’s confident that seeing this person will be a welcome surprise for her, will cheer her up. A cold fear steals through her muscles. She thinks it’s Castle. She thinks he’s used his best-selling-author persona to get himself in.

She doesn’t want to see him. She’s not ready. She doesn’t know how she’ll react. She doesn’t know where she wants them to go from here. In addition, she doesn’t want to see the concern and pity in his eyes. She doesn’t want anyone’s pity. She doesn’t need it.

Jim stands to leave, but she doesn’t want him to go. There are so many things she doesn’t want right now, they could fill a book.

Josh enters, not Castle. And it’s a huge relief. She knows exactly where she and Josh stand. Their relationship is uncomplicated, ordinary. “Hey, you,” he greets her.

“Hey, you,” she says, attempting another smile.

“I told you I’d show you around my work one day, but I’m guessing you didn’t think it’d be such an in-depth tour.” He’s teasing her, and it’s so normal she can almost forget where she is.

“It’s almost as bad as a real-life demonstration of lock up,” she replies easily.

“Don’t worry; I’m not planning on getting arrested any time soon.” There’s a comfortable lull in the conversation before he says, “So, how’re we treating you?”

“Pretty good. I’d kill for for something to drink though.”

“I’ll talk to the nurse about getting you a little water. You can’t overdo it, though. And no food until tomorrow.”

“Not even jello? It’s not food.”

He grins. “Not even jello.” He slips his hand under the blankets to find hers.

She gives it a weak squeeze. “I’m tired.”

“And I have to go back on shift. I’ll come visit you later, okay?”

“M’kay.” She slipping away again, and the heavy pain meds they’ve put her on aren’t helping anything. She hopes next time she’ll be able to stay awake longer, have more energy in her limbs.

“Miss Beckett?” It feels to Kate like no time has passed, but the nurse has appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “We’re going to move you now, to a different section of ICU.” It must be the next day, though her sense of time is totally skewed. Josh must have come and gone in the night while she was sleeping. Part of her wishes he would have woken her up. Part of her is just glad for the rest.

“Okay,” she mumbles. “What do I have to do?”

The nurse smiles. “You don’t have to do anything, just lie still.” Kate hates lying still, and doing nothing even more. The nurse tilts Kate’s head forward slightly, placing over her nose and mouth a mask to keep the germs out. Her immune system must be more compromised than she’d realized.

After removing all the electrodes from her forehead and tubes from her left arm, the nurse calls in another two men in scrubs to roll the bed down the hallway while she makes sure the IV bags don’t jostle too much. Kate’s exhausted again by the time they arrive and she hasn’t even moved. The sight of two armed police officers standing outside her door is only mildly surprising.

It’s who’s inside that is. Castle.


	4. Just Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle visits.

Why does her life have to be so damn complicated? She tries to arrange her expression into a small smile when she sees him, but really she’s dying inside. How ironic.

“Hey, Beckett.” Castle just looks at her, this silly puppy grin on his face. The nurse and her two companions rearrange the bed before Castle can really look at her, study her. His scrutiny makes her self-conscious, and all of a sudden she feels weak in front of his piercing gaze. She retracts from him a bit, the slightest hint of hostility in her bearing.

But she forces a smile. “Hey, Castle.” He doesn’t see the clenching of her hands under the blankets or the whirlpool of confusion swirling through her brain. His presence is like an electric shock, pushing back her weariness for a few minutes of complete clarity. She’d almost prefer the muddled thinking as opposed to dealing with this.

“How’re you doing?”

“I’ve been better.” She adopts a light-hearted tone that she hopes will mask her true pain.

He smiles. Even lying in a hospital bed, her wit is intact. “Yes, I can see that. This is a new look for you. But as well as you pull it off, I think I’d like something a little less...serious.” He gestures down at her to indicate what he means. Then his countenance changes, darkens. “Listen, Kate...do you remember the shooting?”

Her eyes flick up to meet his. “No.”

She watches Castle recoil, like her words are a slap in the face. A melancholy feeling seeps into her heart and she adds, “No, I don’t. Some things are better not remembered. But Castle?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you tell me what happened? I don’t want to hear it from anybody but you.” The light in his eyes has returned, and she hopes beyond hope that he won’t say he loves her again. She can’t deal with that right now, on top of everything else.

“You were standing at the podium, delivering a speech at Montgomery’s funeral. Beautiful speech by the way, I couldn’t have written it better myself.” The corners of her mouth curve upwards again. “In the middle of it, I was looking out towards the gravestones and I saw this flash, the kind that glints off the barrel of a rifle. I tried to knock you down, but...” He hangs his head.

“’S not your fault, Castle.” He meets her eyes, his own filled with guilt and remorse.

“I was supposed to have your back. And I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“It was supposed to be over,” Kate says, letting bitterness into her voice for the first time. “There was no way you could have seen that coming.”

“Thanks.” He looks marginally happier. He hasn’t said anything about his admission of love. Maybe he won’t. Maybe they can just let it slide. But is that what she really wants? They sit in silence for a few minutes, simply enjoying each other’s company. She’s considering asking him to leave—under the pretense of getting some rest, she really just wants him out of here so she doesn’t have to face all the complicated feelings and decisions he poses—but before she can say anything, he asks, “Josh been by yet?”

“Uh, yeah,” she says, nonplussed. “Twice. Why?”

Castle shakes his head. “No reason.”

He scoots closer to her and places his hand on her forearm, a warm pressure that makes her want to flinch away and hug him at the same time. “Kate,” he says softly. Her heart thuds in her chest. She expects him to say it, finally, just when she had started to believe he wouldn’t. She doesn’t know how much of a coward he really is. She underestimates his fear of rejection. “Are you okay?”

Somehow she knows he’s not referring to the bullet wound.

She looks down to hide both her relief and her disappointment. Her heart is crying inside, but her mind is relieved. The tumultuous emotions have drained her of her vitality again, and she says truthfully, “I’m tired, Castle.”

That’s not what he really means and they both know it. But she doesn’t want to think about the shooting, or Montgomery, and especially not dying.

He nods, the slightest bit crushed. He had looked so vibrant, so happy coming in here, and now... Kate just wants him to go, before either of them gets hurt any further.

“Of course. I’ll...I’ll come visit you later,” he says. Kate doesn’t have the heart to tell him no. With one last backward glance, Castle leaves the room and she sighs, feeling a release of tension within her body as he steps out of sight.

She loves him. She knows that, has known, for a while now. But she’s with Josh. Being with Castle might be a wild ride, a dream come true for a little while, but she can’t be sure that he’ll stick around. Not with his history. Not with the fact that it took her dying, shot in a cemetery, for him to tell her he loves her. Does it even count when emotions were running so high? Maybe he did it as a spur of the moment thing, knowing that he might not get another chance. That would explain why he doesn’t mention it now.

Josh is the safe choice. He’s the comfortable, uncomplicated choice. He loves her, and it’s as simple as that. Her life needs simple right now, so she can focus on getting better, getting back to the precinct, getting her job and her life back. That is her first priority. Though she won’t admit it, even to herself, Kate is ignoring the most important question: does she love _him_?

* * *

Castle has to clench his fists to keep from punching the blank wall outside Kate’s room. She doesn’t remember. She doesn’t remember any of it. Unless she does, and she’s determined not to mention it. Which can only mean she doesn’t feel the same.

“Hey, Rick.” He’s been ambushed by Beckett’s father. “How was your visit with Katie?”

“It was...” Castle searches for the words. “...special. I thought I might never see her again, and when I walked in that room...” He’s not playacting this time as he smiles. He remembers drinking in her every movement, her every expression, everything that made her Kate Beckett, kind-hearted cop and badass extraordinaire when he caught his first glimpse of her. If only she was _his_ kind-hearted cop.

Jim nods, understanding completely. “It’s a miracle. She’s a miracle. Sometimes, what with her job and everything, I think her mother’s spirit must be watching over her all these years, keeping her safe. I’ve long since made my peace with her career choice, but it’s still comforting to think Johanna’s had a hand in her recovery.”

Castle smiles again. “Yeah, I think she must have.” He pretends to pull out his phone and check the time. “I should be going; I’m supposed to meet Ryan and Esposito at the precinct in fifteen minutes.” He walks past Jim.

“Rick.” He stops, turns back. “I know Katie’s with Josh right now, but stick around. She needs you more than she lets on, and I think you’d be good for her.”

It’s as if Jim has read his mind, seen what Castle has been considering, and stamped it out with his boot. Castle stares at him for a second, then nods and continues on his way. He’s not really going to the precinct. He’s going home, back to the loft, to get a pen and paper and try to puzzle Kate out.

* * *

Throughout the day, Kate is never alone. Soon after Castle leaves, her father drops in and sits by her bed. They alternate between chatting about inconsequential things and napping—she’s napping, he’s reading, hopefully not one of Castle’s books—until Lanie arrives, toting with her a handheld mirror and makeup from Kate’s apartment. This small act does wonders to help Kate feel like herself again, and she’s sorry to see Lanie go after only half an hour. Her father returns less than a minute after Lanie steps out of the room and doesn’t leave her side until Esposito knocks on the door.

“Yo, Beckett, I’m just stopping by to tell you that you’d better get back to the precinct as soon as possible,” Esposito greets her in standard cop-speak. “There’s a lot of paperwork piling up on your desk, and Ryan and I ain’t gonna do it all for you.”

“Thanks for the sympathy, Espo,” she says, smiling.

“For what, that tiny chest wound? I’ve had a splinter that hurt worse.” Kate wants to laugh but knows it’s impossible; it hurts too much.

“Sorry, Espo, I must not have your pain tolerance. After all, what am I next to a big hunk of ex-Special- Forces muscle?”

Esposito grins. “Listen, we’re doing everything we can to find the guy that put you in here.”

“I know. But don’t let Castle run away with his crazy theories while I’m not there to stop him. I promise you, this has nothing to do with a CIA sting operation gone wrong or Russian spies.”

“Castle? Castle hasn’t come by all day; we thought he was with you.”

“I haven’t seen him since this morning.” She must have upset Castle more than she thought. Could this be the beginning of the end of their partnership? But no, he said he would come back later. Perhaps only to say goodbye? Maybe now that he’s seen her like this, he isn’t interested anymore. Maybe in this state she isn’t enough like Nikki Heat to hold his attention.

“Huh. Maybe he had to take care of Alexis or something.” She thinks Alexis has school today, but it’s no use arguing the point. “Ryan’s expecting me back soon. Just a head’s up, I think the precinct’s amassing a shipment of flowers to send over here, so be prepared. A whole truck-full.”

She smiles. “Thanks, Espo.”

She expects her father to come back once Esposito leaves, but to her surprise he doesn’t show. Seeing how the course of the day went, she half expected her friends to have come up with a visiting schedule to keep her occupied for all hours of the day. She’s glad for some time alone. Her solitary disposition doesn’t coincide well with entertaining people for so long.

After a minute of marveling at how much she’s been able to stay awake today, sleep overtakes her. When she comes to again, someone is sitting beside her, running their thumb in invisible patterns down her forearm.

“Hey, you.” Josh.

“Hey,” she gifts him a smile even though they hurt.

“How do you feel?”

“Okay, I guess. Although I wish I could rub my nose.”

He laughs. “They’ll take you off of oxygen tonight, I promise, when they bring you dinner.” Her boyfriend adopts a mock-serious tone. “Don’t get too excited, you won’t like it much.”

“Still, it’s one step closer to getting out of here.”

“Whoa, that won’t happen for a good long while. You just had a bullet removed from your chest that nicked your heart, Kate, you can’t expect to be up and running again so soon.”

“I...” Her disappointment is clear in her voice.

“Hey, look. Just let me take care of you for a little while. Once you’re released, I’m planning to take a couple weeks off to help you get back on your feet. The trip to Africa with Dr. Carroll can wait another year.” She frowns. This is all wrong. He shouldn’t be putting his life on hold for her, not when...not when her heart belongs to someone else.

“No, listen, Josh,” she says. She hates what she’s about to do, but it needs to be done. She can’t take this career opportunity away from him just to use him as a buffer against Castle’s advances. It’s unfair. “I don’t want you to put your life on hold for me. Go do your rounds, go to Africa.”

“Kate, it’s not a problem. I want to.” She shakes her head, the tubes in her nose tightening uncomfortably. Emotions flash through his face, shock, disbelief. “You’re...you’re breaking up with me? This is it?”

“I’m sorry, Josh.” She averts her gaze.

“This is about him, isn’t it? Castle. The author you’re always talking about, your partner at the Twelfth.”

“Josh—“

“No, I get it, really. I was always second to you. I’m just sorry you finally came ‘round.” He stands suddenly, the rolling stool ricocheting off the cabinet behind him with a bang. She flinches. “God, I was so—“ he stops mid-sentence, tirade stopping as he remembers she’s still in a hospital bed. Stopping as he sees the regret in her eyes, the way she flinches away from his raised voice. “Goodbye, Kate.” He strides out the door.


	5. So This is Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle tries to puzzle out Beckett.

What makes up Kate Beckett? This is the question Castle has been gnashing his teeth over for an hour already, but his paper is still infuriatingly blank. He’s uncapped his favorite gel writing pen for the occasion, black ink that can look midnight blue at just the right angle. It reminds him of murder scenes, how looking at the clues just the right way can lead to solving them. It is just the pen he needs to figure Beckett out. He’s also turned his phone off for good measure. For this, he needs complete concentration.

What does he know about her? He knows she’s a cop. He knows her mother was murdered. He knows she likes her coffee as a Grande skim latte, two pumps sugar-free vanilla.

But none of that helps him puzzle her out. Or maybe it will. Maybe the key is hidden somewhere in the basic facts he knows about her. It’s hard because her mind is so foreign to him. She’s a constant surprise, and he’s always finding new aspects of her he never would have expected. Will he ever know the full and unabridged Kate Beckett? Will he ever, as she put it so eloquently three years ago, peel off all the layers of the Beckett onion?

Well, he thinks, it starts right here, right now. Where to begin... He decides to start even before the defining moment in her life. He makes the first bullet point. She’s an only child and grew up in Manhattan in a fairly well-off family, though she went to public school. Stuyvesant, he remembers. Stuyvesant High School, reserved for highly gifted students. What were her interests as a kid or as a teenager? From the murdered magician’s case he knows she was fascinated with magic. She was a fan of comic books, which he never pegged her for. Because of her father, she was also a baseball fan. Unlike most girls her age, she modeled instead of waitressed for a summer job. And, of course, she had her “wild days” that she staunchly refuses to drop more than vague hints about.

Then there are her college years. She studied pre-law at Stanford—probably influenced by her mother’s career, he thinks—and spent a semester studying in Kiev. She dreamt of becoming the first female Chief Justice of the Supreme Court before...before her mother’s murder.

Johanna Beckett’s murder is most important. It’s that moment in her life where everything changed, her hopes, her aspirations. Castle tries to imagine the effect losing her mother might have had on Kate, but he cannot. He never knew his father and imagining Martha gone when he was nineteen doesn’t work so well either. He has the feeling that Kate and Johanna had a much closer bond than he and his mother did even if it was just because it was a mother-daughter relationship. Castle is an expert on mother-son and father-daughter through Martha and Alexis, but he can barely guess at the true depth of loss Kate felt at the death of her mother.

After that there is just saving her father from alcoholism and her life as a cop. He can’t help but feel like he’s missing something somewhere, because the pieces aren’t making sense. None of this explains why if she does love him, she won’t say so. Didn’t she just have an up-close and personal demonstration on why she can’t afford to wait? After that brief moment of doubt at the hospital, Castle refuses to consider the possibility that she doesn’t love him back. He can’t face that thought yet. He also rejects the idea that she doesn’t remember. When it comes to life-changing moments...people don’t just forget.

“Richard, I’m ho-ome!” The door slams a little harder than he would have liked. “Richard? Oh, there you are.”

“Hello, Mother,” he greets her, hiding his paper under one of the couch cushions. “What are you up to? Writing?”

“No.” A thought occurs to him. “Although only because I’m stuck on this plot point. If you, say, loved a man who also loved you back, what are reasons you wouldn’t tell him you loved him?”

“Richard,” Martha admonishes. “Are we talking about two characters or you and Detective Beckett?”

“Characters,” Castle replies firmly.

“I have raised you, Richard Castle, you cannot hide from me. You—tragically—did not inherit my great acting skills. Now, what is this really about?”

“Fine, it’s about Beckett and me.”

Martha sits on the other end of the couch, disposing of her flashy handbag on the coffee table. “How do you think she knows you love her if you haven’t told her? Have I taught you nothing? You have to tell a woman how you feel, subtlety means nothing—“

“I did.”

That stops her, her mouth hanging open as she processes his words. “When?”

“At the cemetery. After she was shot.”

“Does she remember? It was a very traumatic event.”

“She says she doesn’t, but I don’t quite believe her.”

“Then you have to tell her!”

His deepest fear, the one that he had refused to consider, just kind of spills out. “Mother, what if I’m wrong? What if she doesn’t love me after all?”

“Richard Castle, a woman does not put up with a man like you for three years, go to his silly parties and poker games if she doesn’t love him. Now _you_ have to—“

“ _Put up with a man like_ —no, that’s not the point. It’s just...if she says no, then it’s the end.” He swallows. “There’s no going back from this. If she says no, then it’s the end of my days at the precinct, working her cases; it’s the end of Nikki Heat. I can’t walk into that place every day knowing that she doesn’t love me back, that all _this_ I’m feeling is unrequited.”

“But is that worse than living in miserable ignorance?”

Castle pauses, considering. “All right, I’ll talk to Beckett.”

All he knows as he drives to the hospital and walks down the hallway towards her room is that his hands are shaking with nervous tension and half his resolve is gone. There are voices coming from her room where two armed police officers wait outside. They size him up as he approaches.

“No, listen, Josh,” she says. He slows down, listening intently. Her voice is tired and strained. “I don’t want you to put your life on hold for me. Go do your rounds, go to Africa.”

“Kate, it’s not a problem. I want to,” the doctor replies. There’s a pause. “You’re...you’re breaking up with me? This is it?”

Castle stops in his tracks, unable to believe what he’s hearing. Jim and Martha were right after all. Kate does love him. He’s so glad he could start dancing, right there in the hallway.

“I’m sorry, Josh.” She sounds exhausted, emotionally and physically drained.

“This is about him, isn’t it? Castle. The author you’re always talking about, your partner at the Twelfth.” Josh’s voice is rising in pitch and volume.

“Josh—“

“No, I get it, really. I was always second to you. I’m just sorry you finally came ‘round.” There’s a loud banging sound. “God, I was so—“ he stops for a second, then in a quieter, calmer tone says, “Goodbye, Kate.” He strides out the door, coming face to face with Castle.

Josh’s eyes narrow, and Castle wonders if he’ll punch him in the face again, give him a bruise on his left to match his other cheek. But the MD just glares at him before pushing roughly past him and continuing on his way.

Castle rounds the corner with a big smile but stops dead again at the expression on Kate’s face. Forlorn. Lost. Regretful.

She looks up suddenly to see him, surprise registering in her eyes. She hastily wipes away what he thinks is a tear, saying, “What are you doing here, Castle?” Her voice is defensive, and it’s not how he expected to be treated at all.

He looks at her carefully. Her face is pale and drawn. Unlike before, she’s wearing makeup again. It had been a shock to see her without it, not because it diminished her beauty in any way, shape, or form, but because it made her seem more...vulnerable. A word she would never sanction use of in reference to her.

Now, however, she looks a little like a dog that’s been kicked too many times. The only part of her that vaguely resembles Detective Beckett is the fierceness in her eyes as she waits for his response.

“I said I would come by again, later,” he replies. “I saw Josh...leaving. Is everything okay?” He pretends he didn’t hear any of the conversation, trying to respect her privacy as much as he can. “Storming out” would be a more accurate description of what Josh just did.

“Everything’s fine, Castle,” she says unconvincingly.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He’s serious. He wants to give her someone to open up to. She’s obviously _not_ fine, and despite her evasions and forced happiness he doesn’t think she’s comfortable here. Kate looks at him, weighing the truth and sincerity of his words. “I’m just tired, Castle. They’ve started taking me down a notch on pain meds and I’m not sleeping so well anymore.”

“Are you having nightmares?” She doesn’t seem inclined to say any more, just sigh and close her eyes. What he has to say can wait until she’s more rested, more up for it. Now that she’s broken up with Josh, he finds that he doesn’t mind the wait. “I’ll stay with you if you want, so you can get some rest. Maybe someone sitting with you will help keep the nightmares at bay.”

“No,” her eyes are open again. “You should go home. Be with Alexis, Martha.”

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly, standing to leave. He’d forgotten a key thing about Detective Beckett. She doesn’t let anyone in. Ever. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Do you mind if we don’t?” Her words stop him in the doorway. “I just...I just need a little time.”

“Sure,” he says, hating every word. “How much time?”

“I’ll call you, okay?”

He looks at her with hurt and longing for a moment but nods. “Of course.” He leaves her, lying there in her bed in the hospital. And once he’s out of her room, he doesn’t look back.

Jim was wrong after all. She may not want Josh, but she doesn’t want him either.

He makes it back to the loft on autopilot, sinking down on the couch with his phone in hand. Why did she send him away? What on Earth had he done wrong? Even if his romantic feelings are unrequited, why does it feel like their friendship has just ended as well?

That’s the worst part. He doesn’t know. Which means he doesn’t know how to fix it.

* * *

Kate slumps back on the pillows, crying for real now. She hadn’t meant to send Castle away, it just...happened. He had caught her in one of her weakest moments, and she had reacted defensively. Retreated back into her shell. But she can’t even call him back now, because he’ll want an explanation. And Castle is the last person she can explain these feelings to.

Tears still streak her face when Lanie returns, and she doesn’t even try to hide them from her best friend. “Oh, Kate...” Lanie breathes. She takes Kate’s hand in hers, brushes a wisp of hair out of her eyes. “What happened, honey?”

“I broke up with Josh,” Kate says softly. Crying is just making her chest hurt more.

“For Castle?”

“I sent him away too.”

“I’m so sorry, Kate,” Lanie says, sympathy brimming in her eyes. She squeezes Kate’s hand. Unlike everyone else, Lanie doesn’t require an explanation.

“I’ve started to have nightmares, too, ever since they started cutting back the drugs. I see their faces every time I close my eyes.”

“Whose faces?”

“Montgomery. My mom. Raglan.”

“You should try to get some sleep, Kate. I’m going to stay right here, so you don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, you don’t have to—“

“I want to. Perlmutter can take my shift at the morgue, okay?”

“Okay.” She sounds like a small child. She knows saying no to Lanie won’t do any good anyway. She closes her eyes.

A shot rings in her ears. There are sirens and screams coming from all directions. Everything’s fading away again, this blackness swallowing her. She’ll never see any of them again.

Kate jolts awake with her nails digging into Lanie’s skin. The ME doesn’t seem to mind. “Don’t be scared, Kate. I’m right here,” she tries to reassure her.

“Why does this keep happening?” she asks. “Why do I have to keep reliving it, over and over again?”

“This isn’t really my area of expertise,” Lanie looks uneasy. “But I would guess that it’s some form of PTSD. You should talk to Javi about it; he has some experience.”

“M’kay,” says Kate noncommittally. Unfortunately, Lanie knows her too well for that to fly.

“Nightmares are nothing to be ashamed of, Kate. Neither is PTSD. So don’t toss away help because you think we’ll see you differently.”

“Okay, I won’t,” Kate promises. “But really, you should get back to the morgue.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Kate?”

“I’m sure.” She gives her friend a brave smile. “Go.”

With an uncertain glance, the ME reluctantly leaves. Kate settles back on the pillows again, dreading falling asleep. After only a few moments, her eyes flick open. A new determination fills her, the likes of which she hasn’t felt since she first arrived in the hospital. The kind she hasn’t felt since she died.

She _will_ get through this. She will put Castle out of her mind and concentrate all her energies on getting better, getting back to the precinct. She doesn’t need anybody else’s help for this, not now that she’s found her strength again. This is the resolve that allows her to solve every murder case. This is the iron-hard resolve that fuels Detective Beckett.

This is the resolve that will allow her to become Detective Beckett once again.


	6. Punch Me Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle has some realizations.

Castle sits at his computer, fuming. He’s got a half a page typed out of _Heat Rises_ , but he’s going to have to scrap the section anyway. He can’t bear to write about Nikki right now, so he had tried writing a scene using Roach. It ended up culminating with Raley getting shot. He has bullets on the brain.

His phone rings. When he had gotten home from the hospital, he had two missed calls from Esposito and one from Ryan. Late that night, Lanie called, but he ignored that one as well. Castle picks up the phone to see Caller ID. Gina.

“Castle,” he answers through gritted teeth.

“Hello, Rick,” she says in her usual drawl. “You promised me a _Heat Rises_ manuscript through chapter fourteen due last Saturday.”

“I know,” he says. “I got caught up in a case.”

“Well, now that the muse is held up in the hospital, have you made any progress?” Anger flares in him at the casual delivery of that statement.

“Beckett was shot. No, I haven’t made much progress, Gina.”

“Come on, Rick. You’ve done three years of research on that woman; you have more than enough to complete _Heat Rises_ and then some. Do I need to remind you that you’re under contract?”

“I’m perfectly aware,” he spits out.

”I’ll give you three weeks, Rick. But I want the entire thing on my desk by midnight on the eleventh.” He’s silent. “Rick? This isn’t really optional.”

“Fine,” he agrees. He hangs up before his ex-wife and publisher can say another word.

Castle turns back to his laptop, which has gone to his “You Should Be Writing” screensaver. Everyone keeps trying to tell him what he _should_ be doing.

“Stick around,” said Jim.

“Tell her how you feel,” said Martha.

“Don’t come back tomorrow,” said Kate.

“Get that manuscript finished,” said Gina.

And now even his laptop is giving him orders.

What if he doesn’t _want_ to do any of this stuff? He closes the lid of his laptop with a slight bang and pulls open the study door. He grabs his coat off the rack.

“Dad, where are you going?” He hadn’t realized a certain red-head was still awake and seated on the couch. “To the precinct,” he says without looking at her.

“It’s awfully late. Are you sure you shouldn’t just wait until morning?” Alexis asks. He doesn’t notice the forlorn looks she keeps giving to her phone or the dribble of smeared mascara that indicates she’s been crying. He’s wholly wrapped up in his own little world of Beckett and manuscripts and more Beckett.

“No,” Castle replies, kissing the top of her head. “Don’t wait up.”

He exits the loft and hails a taxi, directing the driver to take him to Smithies’, a bar he’s never been to but has heard a lot about. He needs somewhere to go that’s not a cop bar, somewhere that no one will think of looking for him. He doesn’t want to be bothered by anyone right now.

Upon entering the establishment, Castle promptly sits down on a stool and orders a drink. His mind has just achieved “little bit foggy” when a shadow looms over him. He looks up to see Josh.

“Well, if it isn’t Richard Castle.” Josh’s face is contorted with emotion. Castle eyes him warily. “I’m not here for a fight. Walk away, and nobody gets hurt.”

Josh leans in closer, his face only inches away from Castle’s. “What if I’ve already _been_ hurt? Can it hurt _any worse_ than this? And it’s. All. Your. Fault!” He embellishes this last part by slamming his hand down on the bar. The MD’s hot breath reeks of liquor.

Castle slowly stands to face Josh, whose face is flushed red.

“Take it outside, gents,” says the bartender uneasily. Neither Castle nor Josh move a muscle as they stare each other down.

“You just wouldn’t let go, even when she was with someone else!” Josh bursts out.

“You were never there for her with all your trips to other countries!”

“You encouraged her to look into her mother’s case!” That stops Castle in his tracks, because it’s true. He is partially responsible for Beckett getting shot. He pushed her further in.

Josh pulls back his arm to take a swing. Before Castle knows it, Josh has been knocked to the side and his right knuckles are on fire. Punch me once, shame on you, he thinks. Punch me me twice, shame on me. The words echo with a melancholy strain because he knows exactly where he’s said them—or words very much like them—before.

Shouts come from the bar, but both men pay no heed to them. Josh spits a bit of blood out of his mouth and then takes another swing at Castle, who steps out of the way while grabbing an empty beer bottle from behind the counter. Josh yells in rage as he barrels into Castle, driving him into the side of the bar.

The wind knocked out of him, Castle can only stand there blinking for a moment. Then he tries to bring the bottle down on Josh’s head except he misses and connects with his shoulder. The glass shatters everywhere and Josh socks Castle in the side of the mouth. With one massive push, Castle shoves his assailant out the door of Smithies’ and follows him outside.

“You. Were. The. Only. Thing. Keeping. Us. Apart. For. A. Whole. Year!” Castle shouts, accentuating each word with a punch to the stomach.

Josh looks like he’s had enough as he hobbles to his feet. “If you love her so much, then what are you doing drinking in a bar instead of sitting with her?” He spits another bit of blood out onto the sidewalk, a wild frenzy in his eyes. “What, did she send you away too? At least when she was with me, she was sure of my intentions!” The battered MD turns on his heel and stalks off, leaving Castle standing on the sidewalk alone. He can feel a bruise forming on his back and mouth, and he can taste blood.

Castle’s had enough for one night too. He hails another cab back to the loft, wiping away the blood on his face with his coat sleeve. Luckily neither Martha nor Alexis are in the living room when he arrives, and he retires immediately to his bedroom. For the first time in a long four days, he falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow.

In his dream, he’s wandering through the loft trying to find the source of the endless music. It inexplicably bothers him and seems to be coming from upstairs, where Alexis might have left it playing or something. Every time he walks up the stairs to check, however, he finds himself walking through front door in an infinitesimal loop. Something bad will happen if he doesn’t shut it up. He just knows it.

Castle awakes slowly from the dream, but the infernal music hasn’t stopped. Blearily his hands fumbles inside his jacket and removes his cell phone from within. He can’t even read the Caller ID but answers it anyway in his very best grumpy-sleepy-why-did-you-wake-me-up voice. “Castle.”

“Rick! Rick! I’ve been calling you all morning! Have you seen what they’ve published on page six?!”

“Paula,” he says, sitting up. “Paula, what are you talking about?”

“Oh, so you thought it was a good idea to just mosey into some bar and start punching somebody?”

Oh, no. Oh, no. Castle bolts off the bed and out into the living room, opening the door to retrieve the morning paper. He spreads it out on the kitchen counter. Paula won’t stop jabbering in his ear. “You at least could have told me, Rick. A simple, ‘hey Paula, I made a mistake, so here’s what’s going to be in tomorrow’s paper’ would have been nice.” But Castle’s set the phone down. He’s not listening to her high-pitched tirade anymore.

_Could millionaire playboy Richard Castle have turned home-wrecker as well? In the past it appears that Richard Castle has refrained from chasing the married types, but as of the bar fight at Smithies’ last night it appears no conquest is too heinous for the best-selling author. He and an unidentified man were caught throwing punches—and beer bottles—at each other, fighting over an also unidentified woman. Who is this man, and who is this potential next fling of Castle’s? Or could this mystery woman turn into wife #3?_

Accompanying the miniature article is a blurry photo picturing Castle smashing a beer bottle into Josh’s shoulder. Josh’s back is to the camera, but it’s not enough to stop Ryan or Esposito—or, even worse, Beckett —from identifying him easily.

“Paula,” he picks up the phone again. “Is there anything you can do about this?”

“Well, I would have been able to had you told me last night!”

“I forgot, I’m sorry,” he says. Though he does mean it, it might have the added benefit of making her lose the screechy tone. “Still, you have a lot of connections. Is there anything you can do to at least make it...die down a little?”

“It’s already printed; it’s already out there, Rick,” she tells him. “Maybe I can keep the smaller papers from latching on and reprinting it, but it won’t be easy.”

“You’re a life-saver, Paula,” he says.

“And don’t you forget it.” There’s a click and she’s gone. Castle slumps over the counter. It’s still early in the morning but already Castle feels like an entire day has past. His back is sore and he decides just to go back to sleep. On his way he’s ambushed by Martha.

“Richard, what are you doing up so early? Going to see Detective Beckett?”

“No, Mother, just thinking,” he lies.

“About what?” she pries. “You don’t look happy; is everything all right between you two? Is it about what I said yesterday?”

“What did you say yesterday?” He honestly doesn’t remember; yesterday feels like a million years ago.

“Richard, when I said a woman would have to be in love with you to put up with you for three years, I didn’t mean it as an insult.” Oh. That. “No, really. Inside you are a deeply loving, deeply caring man. I just meant...sometimes people can look at you and not see all that. Sometimes the childish, playboy side of you—or your reputation as such—masks your abundant finer qualities.”

“I know, Mother,” he says. He can’t say that the comment didn’t hurt at the time, but he wasn’t overly bothered by it. Clearly Martha has given it much more thought and credence than him and is quite determined to get it off her chest.

“Kate Beckett would be lucky to have a man like you, Richard.”

He cuts her off before she can say any more, really just wanting to be alone right now. He doesn’t need a list of a million reasons why Kate should be with him—he’s already created one of his own, and a fat lot of good it did him. “I knew what you meant,” he promises her. “Besides, if I took it as an insult, I would’ve kicked you out of the loft right then and there.”

She pinches his cheek. “That’s my boy.”

Castle walks past her and into his bedroom. “I’ve had a long four days; I think I’m just going to back to sleep.” She nods agreeably and he closes the door again. Once he’s lying down, however, he finds it isn’t quite that easy.

* * *

Beckett refrains from fidgeting as the doctor slides the IV needle out of her arm.

“Last one, there you go,” the doctor smiles. He has already removed the oxygen tubes from her nostrils. Despite her aversion to needles, that procedure wins the prize for most invasive in her opinion. But now she’s just glad they’re out.

She flexes her fingers experimentally, examining the dark dot that betrays the puncture wound. “Can I sit up?” Her father next to her looks uneasy.

“Katie, maybe you should wait a while.” Jim turns to the doctor for backup.

The doctor eyes her. “We’ve already raised the top part of the bed by two inches. I wouldn’t recommend putting it up any more than that in this stage of your recovery.”

“Because it’ll be damaging or because it’ll hurt?” Her voice is monotone, every syllable stressing the command she possesses over her body and mind. She will not allow fear, and she will not tolerate weakness.

“It might not be damaging, but it definitely will be painful.”

“Raise the bed.” The doctor looks at her for a second and then nods to the nurse. The machine whirrs as it props her up slowly, and Beckett knows he meant what he said about it being painful. It hurts. A lot. But not enough to request to go back to the way it was.

She grits her teeth and breathes in as big a breath as she can manage, stretching her ribcage painfully. Her wound objects loudly, assailing her with flashes of heat and red. “What exactly is the plan for my recovery? By your estimate, when is the earliest I can be released?” She phrases it in such a way that it’s clear she’s just asking for his professional opinion. Letting him know that if she wants to leave, nothing’s going to stop her.

“Right now, we’re just focused on you regaining some of your strength and not damaging the wound any further. Most patients aren’t as active or alert as you are in this stage. Next will be physical therapy, where you’ll do exercises that won’t be too stressful for your body and exceedingly gentle on your wound. Even something as simple as taking a step will be extraordinarily hard when you first begin.”

“Why can’t we start physical therapy right now? I’m ready.”

“Any physical activity on your part in this stage would be extremely detrimental. Your wound is too fragile for even the lightest of exercises.”

Beckett scowls at this, expressing her displeasure at these restrictions. The doctor smiles and pats her arm. “Relax and enjoy the extra time off. You’ll be out of here soon enough.”

As he walks out of the room with the nurse trailing him, Beckett’s fingers curl around the hem of the blanket. “Soon enough” would have been twelve hours ago. She hates being dependent on people and things. She hates being dependent on the hospital staff for her recovery. She hates being dependent on Lanie to bring her books to occupy her time. She hates being reliant on a metal pan to go to the bathroom.

After a moment of self-indulgence, Beckett reasserts her formidable mental discipline. Do not think about the negatives. Do not think about the shooting.

Do not think about Castle.

She’s still exerting her mental control when Ryan, Esposito, and Lanie arrive. Lanie immediately gives her a questioning look, but Kate shakes her head. No, she hasn’t talked to Espo yet about PTSD. Using the group setting as an excuse not to delve into the topic, she asks, “So, what’s going on? You guys get stuck on a case and need my help?”

“Not exactly,” Ryan says, “we just wanted to check up on you, see how you were doing. Pretty quiet week for murders, actually.”

“There is something else we wanted to talk to you about, Beckett,” Esposito says. All of a sudden Kate finds it odd that they’re all there, together, and her father isn’t leaving like he normally does when she has visitors but leaning back in his chair thoughtfully with an intense look in his eyes. “We can’t get in contact with Castle.”

“We’ve all tried, but writer-boy won’t pick up,” Lanie says. Lanie knows exactly why Castle isn’t picking up. She’s giving her best significant-subliminal-message look to Kate that clearly says, “Don’t blame me; they forced me to come along.”

“So we were wondering whether you’d heard from him,” Esposito continues. “It’d be just like Castle to go off on his own and try to track down the sniper by himself.” She stiffens at the word as a hole is ripped in her chest again, but her muscles are locked so tight with self-restraint that she doesn’t think any of them notice.

“And if he is, we’d like to know so we can head him off,” Ryan finishes. “Castle’s not known for keeping his head in these types of situations. It sounds exactly like something he’d do.”

“Yes,” Kate lies. “He was in here this morning.”

“I didn’t see him,” Jim interjects.

“He didn’t stay long,” Beckett replies, “just a quick pop-in. I think...I think he said something about a book deadline. Maybe that’s why he’s AWOL?” She hates lying to both her dad and her team, but they’ve given her no choice in the matter. As much as they care about her and she them, what happened with Castle is none of their business. “He came by while you were getting breakfast.” Lanie gives her an exasperated look but doesn’t comment. She sees right through the lie. Ryan and Esposito, however...they are detectives, but her poker face is as good as Castle’s. They might suspect something’s amiss. They might not.

“All right, I guess we shouldn’t worry about him too much,” Ryan says.

“If we still haven’t heard from him I’ll stop by his place tomorrow after work,” Esposito agrees. “The dude can’t ignore us if we’re banging on his door.”

The thought fills Kate with dread but she forces herself to smile. “Benefits of being a cop.”

* * *

There’s something bothering him, preventing him from falling back into the emptiness of sleep. It swirls around in his brain evading capture, teasing him and haunting him and remaining elusive. Whenever he thinks he has it, it slips out of his grasp again like a fish.

It has something to do with the fight, he thinks, rolling over onto his side. He cups his elbow and uses it as extension of his pillow to rest his head on. Was it something he did? No, neither of them did much more than exchange blows. Something he said?

_At least when she was with me, she was sure of my intentions..._ The words float back into his mind and a pang in his heart tells him that these are the ones that have been giving him so much grief. Sure of his intentions? What were Josh’s intentions? Castle can discern no other motive in their relationship besides the simple fact that Josh loved her. Was that what he meant by intentions? How are his own any different?

I love her too, he thinks. More than Josh does, or ever did. Josh had only been with her for less than a year, while Castle has three years of pent up love for Kate. Was Josh implying that _Kate_ didn’t know of his intentions? He had told her he loved her, what else did she need?

He weighs this new revelation against everything he knows about her, everything he put on that list from yesterday. On a whim he adds in Martha’s observations as well to the mix. He starts chronologically, from the moment they met. What had she thought when she first met him?

He had been offering a drink to his fifteen-year-old daughter. Well, that can’t have been the greatest first impression ever. He knows she’s a fan of his books, which probably meant she knew him as the papers knew him—a man of numerous flings, conquests, and even a couple of failed marriages to boot. And he had cemented that idea of him in her mind by...hitting on her. “I’d be happy to let you spank me” comes to mind.

He’d like to think that everything he did after that commuted those first few cases where she wasn’t any more than a hot new woman to chase. He’d like to think that saving her life multiple times and spending $100,000 of his own money to find her mother’s killer would have demonstrated that he’s in it for the long haul. But Josh seems to be insinuating that it wasn’t enough. That she doubts his intentions, and is thus nipping their possible romance in the bud to save herself the emotional pain later.

And here Castle is now, lying on his bed and longing for her. Pining.

He sits up, lethargy gone. She’s pushed him away, but he’s not going anywhere. Even if she isn’t going to fight for this relationship, he is. And he isn’t going to stop fighting until they actually get somewhere, wherever that might be. Hashed out, clear where they both stand, and if he’s right about her, maybe even starting something new. He owes it to himself, and to her, and to three years of partnership to try, because deep down he has trust that maybe it’s what she wants too.


	7. Gated Community

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle returns to the 12th Precinct.

Physical therapy is hell. _Standing up_ is hell. She had been fighting the wheelchair idea on the way to her session, but now she’s not complaining anymore. Far from it.

Even with a bar to haul herself up on, more than ten seconds on her feet caused her head to grow dizzy and that wasn’t even trying to walk yet. Never in her life has she been so tired and so weak. Her mental and physical discipline is gone; she’s back to dwelling on the fact that Castle’s not here to take her hand and tell her she’s still beautiful. Tremors run up her hands and her legs won’t stop shaking. The nurse helps her back into bed, and she can’t even tell Jim how it went before she’s asleep. The doctor had been right. Her body wasn’t ready to take that much strain. Not by a long shot.

* * *

Castle walks out of the elevator to find himself face to face with everyday life. He doesn’t know what he expected at the precinct—just something that recognized Beckett’s absence a little more. Everywhere there is a bustle of activity. As he approaches her desk, he sees that it’s been cleared and cleaned. The only thing left of her is her lonely name plaque. At least there’s not another detective sitting at her desk, he thinks.

“Hey, bro,” someone says from behind. Castle turns to greet Esposito with Ryan following close behind. “Where you been?”

“Writing,” Castle lies with a smile. His go-to answer.

Ryan’s expression changes to one of panic as he looks over Castle’s shoulder. “Quick, get over here before Gates sees you.” He tugs Castle over to their desks, pulling up a chair for him. Castle spots a newspaper sitting open on Ryan’s and picks it up. “Nice article, by the way,” Ryan eyes him.

Esposito snatches up the paper to read it for himself and then whistles. “You and Josh lit on each other?”

“Yeah...” Castle says in a mock-apologetic voice. He regrets nothing regarding hitting Josh. “Listen, don’t tell Beckett.”

“Well, I dunno...” Ryan ponders, taking the paper from his partner and neatly folding it up. “It kinda seems like something she should know about.”

“Please, guys...”

Esposito’s eyes narrow. “Ferrari for a week.”

“Deal.”

“Each.”

“Fine.”

Ryan dumps a couple of manila case files on top of the newspaper, settling the matter. “So, we got a lead on the sniper—“

“What is going on here?” A short, dark-skinned woman with glasses and a no-nonsense attitude is striding toward them, exuding her displeasure and blatant disapproval with every step. “Detective Ryan, are you about to leak information about an ongoing investigation to a civilian?”

Esposito swears under his breath. “Captain Gates, this is Richard Castle. He was Detective Beckett’s partner.”

Gates appraises Castle for a millisecond with hawk eyes and then asks, “Detective Beckett is currently on medical leave. What is he doing here?”

“I wanted to help with the case,” Castle interjects. Ryan shakes his head aggressively behind Gates’s back.

“I don’t know what kind of shop Roy Montgomery was running here, Mr. Castle, but there is no room for untrained writers on the side. You need to leave. Detectives Ryan and Esposito, get back to work. One of our own has been shot, and no one gets away with shooting a police officer. Do you understand me?”

“With all due respect sir,” Ryan begins, “Castle has worked with the NYPD for three years; he can handle himself. He’s actually helped solve a lot of murders already—we could use the extra eyes for this.”

“You will have all the resources of the NYPD at your disposal, but I will not allow a civilian to be caught in the crosshairs. Go home, Mr. Castle.”

“We won’t let him get hurt, Captain,” Esposito says.

“I’ve already signed my life away in a waiver from three years ago,” Castle adds helpfully.

“The homicide division is a community, a family,” Ryan continues in his most persuasive voice. “Castle’s been part of this community for three years. He’s one of us.”

Castle raises his right palm. “I promise I’ll stay out of your way. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“Uh huh,” Gates says slowly, glaring at Castle from over the rims of her glasses. “All right, but for this one case only.”

“Quiet as a mouse.” Gates gives him another unfriendly stare before stalking away. Castle turns to Ryan and Esposito. “So, you were saying about leads?”

Ryan waits until Gates is back in her office before answering. “Seeing as we can’t investigate McCallister, Raglan, and Montgomery in the precinct without Gates opening up a full investigation, not much. We recovered the sniper rifle from the crime scene, but, unfortunately, no prints. Lab ran a trace for DNA and came up with nothing, but we’ve asked them to run it again.”

“Why? Did they miss something?”

“No, not that we know of. But we just want to be sure,” Esposito answers. “As for the gun itself, according to the DOD the serial number matches a weapon that was issued to one Martin Holst, a Navy Seal that was killed in action seven years ago. His body was recovered in a subsequent mission but the weapon was not.”

“What about the shooter? The cemetery was a sea of cops; how did he go unnoticed?” Castle has so many questions spinning through his brain that he thinks it might burst.

“Dogs picked up a scent and traced it to the west side of the cemetery, but they lost it there.” Ryan looks decidedly unhappy. “He may not have gone unnoticed at all; half the guys we talked to remembered seeing a groundskeeper taking cover from the shooter behind a tree. But according to the grounds staff, none of them were there.”

“He blended in during the chaos and then disappeared,” Esposito agrees. “Right now we’re pretty much stuck; we’ve got no more—“

Castle’s cell phone rings and the author makes a dive in his pocket for it, scrambling to accept her call before it goes to voicemail. But it’s not Kate. It’s a blocked number. “Castle.”

“We need to talk, so listen carefully,” says the voice on the other end. It is deep and gravelly, and unmistakably male.

“Who is this?” Castle cuts in.

“It doesn’t matter who I am. All you need to know is that to keep Detective Beckett safe, you must to prevent her from investigating any more of her mother’s case.”

“What? How do you know about that? How do you know about any of this?”

“I was a friend of Montgomery’s back in the day. I owe him my life, and in return, I’ll do this favor for him. Before he died, Montgomery sent me some files that, if released to the public, will hurt some very powerful people. He was using them as a threat to keep his family and Detective Beckett safe.”

“Then why was she shot?”

“Unfortunately, he underestimated the interlude between his death and the day I received the package. I assure you that Detective Beckett will not be harmed now, on one condition: she must not go near the case. Otherwise I cannot guarantee her safety.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“Do you have a choice?” The man lets those words hang there for a second, then continues. “I will tell you this: even you, with all your contacts and resources, could not stand up to these people. This file is the only way she will ever know peace again.”

“Okay,” Castle says finally. “I understand. How do I get in contact with you, if I need your help?”

“You don’t.” There’s a click and the man is gone, like he never even existed. Except for the fact that Ryan and Esposito are staring at him with identical bemused expressions on their faces.

“Dude, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Ryan tells him. “Bathroom. Now,” Castle takes them by their sleeves and pulls them towards it.

“Bro, what are you doing?” Esposito protests. Once the door is closed, Castle checks underneath each of the stalls for occupants. “Why are you dragging us in here? Only teenage girls go to the bathroom in packs.”

“What I’m about to tell you, you have to swear not to tell Beckett.” The gravity of his expression deters more complaining and Ferrari-bargaining.

“Dude, what’s going on?”

“Promise.” He stares the down as they look at him uncertainly. “Come on, guys. I need you in on this. Do you trust me?”

“Yeah,” says Esposito after a moment, and Ryan nods.

“That call was from a friend of Montgomery’s. He said he had received a package from Montgomery himself containing files that would keep Beckett and Montgomery’s family safe. However, the deal he has with the men after her only remains in effect if she stays away from the case.”

“Then we can’t let her get anywhere near this case,” Ryan states immediately. The quickness of his words and finality of his tone more than anything portray his care for Beckett, not often expressed so boldly.

“But bro, the first thing she’ll want to do when she gets back here is take a run at it!” Esposito sighs. “Even Montgomery recognized that he couldn’t keep her the hell away from her mother’s case, which is why he let her look into it in the first place!”

“We have plenty of time to figure this out before she gets back,” says Castle. They both look at him. “What?”

“It’s gonna be up to you, dude,” Esposito says flatly. “You’re the only one with enough pull to stop her.” The unspoken message is just as clear: she loves you, so you’ll have the best chance at getting her to listen. They don’t know what happened the day before the shooting.

“I tried, before Montgomery was killed; she didn’t listen,” Castle tells them hollowly. “I held her down with my hand cupped over her mouth as Montgomery was shot to death. After what happened last time...I’m not sure I can hold her back again.”

“What happened last time is you saved her life,” Esposito tells him firmly.

“She... _cares_ about you a lot, Castle,” Ryan reminds him. Both of them are surreptitiously avoiding the word ‘love.’ “I think she’ll listen.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Castle warns them. They’ve underestimated her drive. But then again, they haven’t seen the fire in her eyes when she works on her mother’s case. They haven’t seen her true fervor, sometimes bordering on insanity. They don’t know about the consecutive all-nighters she pulls, just sitting with her legs tucked up to her chest in front of her own personal murder board set up in her window. Castle is the only one who has seen her like this.

“Wait a second, guys,” Ryan interrupts Castle’s morbid train of thought. “If she has to stay away from the case, does that mean we do too?”

“I’m not about to let it go,” Castle answers him. “But we can’t do it like this. The precinct isn’t covert enough; they’d see us coming from a mile away. The man on the phone is using files to bargain for her life, which means the answers she’s searching for do exist—in those files. We have to work quietly, behind the scenes, to uncover the truth behind her mother’s murder and her shooting.”

“How do we halt the investigation here?” Ryan asks. “Even if we go to Gates and tell her we’ve got squat— which we pretty much do—you’ll be kicked out of the precinct.”

“Until Beckett gets back.”

“And then we’ll have to do this behind her back as well.”

“I don’t like this...” Ryan murmurs. “It feels wrong to keep such a big, important secret from her.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Castle replies. “If it keeps her safe, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. If we tell her about the deal, she’ll only take off chasing the man on the phone. So we don’t.”

When Castle arrives home after working with Ryan and Esposito all day and sneaking a box of evidence and case files out of the precinct, he finds the bottom floor empty. He sets the box down in the office and closes the door to prevent anyone from snooping on his planned late-night activity. Then he heads up the stairs, calling, “Alexis? Mother?”

Though no one answers, light peeks out from underneath Alexis’s door. Castle opens it softly to find his daughter curled up on top of her bed, calculus book at the foot of it and phone clenched tightly in her fist. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her makeup smeared. He brushes a hand over her shoulder. “Alexis.”

She stirs, pulling herself into a sitting position. “Dad...I didn’t realize you got home.”

He sits on the edge of her bed and she scooches over to make room. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

She hesitates before letting it all burst out in one confused jumble. “It’s Ashley. I keep calling him but every time he either answers and says he has to go or doesn’t pick up at all. I think he’s avoiding me at school because I never see him anymore. It’s just, things were going so great a few days ago, and now I’m wondering if there were signs that I didn’t see because I was too worried about Detective Beckett and you and finals and all the crazy stuff going on right now. Ashley never ignores my calls, Dad, ever!”

“I’m sorry, Alexis—“

“And I just confirmed my going to Stanford after next semester on early admission but I only did it for him and if we’re not together I don’t know what I’m going to do!” She’s breathless with tears leaking out of her eyes, while Castle’s mind is still trying to catch up. “Dad, I don’t want to go alone!”

“Alexis...sometimes these things happen,” he says. As an adult having gone through it all, he knows the relative futility of high school relationships, but how does one explain that to a distraught, heartbroken seventeen-year-old daughter? “And they suck. I know.” He envelops her in a hug, cradling her against his chest.

“What did I do wrong, Dad?” she whispers. He shakes his head and holds her tighter, heart breaking in his chest for the second time in two days.

* * *

“Yo, Beckett,” Esposito says. He doesn’t seem to see—or doesn’t comment on—the weariness in her bearing and the haunted look in her eyes. “Guess who showed up at the precinct yesterday? Castle.”

“Did he get his writing done?” she asks, covering her own surprise and confusion in the guise of an innocent question. Why had Castle shown up at the precinct? She sent him away, so what is he still doing around? Doesn’t he get it? It’s over.

“Yeah, he said he’s finally got Gina off his back so he’s all ours for the next couple weeks. He’s spending every spare minute at the precinct helping us hunt for your shooter.” She tenses momentarily and his eyes narrow at it. Again, he doesn’t comment, and she’s grateful. She doesn’t want to be smothered in their worry and concern.

She considers for a moment, then takes the plunge. “Espo? Tell him thanks for me.”

Esposito nods. “Will do.” Espo must be aware, at least on some level, of what neither of them has told him, to not question her request. Which means he must understand her situation, sympathize with it. He must be on her side.

Kate doesn’t think she’s ever felt closer to Espo in her life.


	8. The Light at the End of the Tunnel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beckett invites Castle back to the hospital.

Kate stands shakily, half of her weight on her feet and half of it leaning on the metal bar provided for her. Her wheelchair is at the edge of the mat a few feet away. With great effort, she lifts her foot a centimeter off the floor and forward slightly, just enough for it to count as a step. She leans on it heavily, dragging her left foot forward to meet it before standing still, practically panting with exertion.

“Good,” her therapist says delightedly. “Remember, we stop as soon as you start feeling a burning sensation in your legs.” Her legs have passed “burning” a long while ago, but Kate is determined to press on. Five steps yesterday, six this morning, and she’s going for eight now. Her legs protest in a hot fire followed by a cold chill as she takes another tiny step, teeth clenched together and knuckles white with suppressed pain. She can do this. She _will_ do this.

“Three,” she pants. She’s still exhausted by this morning’s exertions, coupled by the stretches and strength exercises she completed before this. A sheen of perspiration coats her forehead. Another tiny step forward, four.

She drops to her knees at seven, tears of pain and frustration wetting her lashes. She simply can’t go on and berates herself for it as the therapist helps her back into the wheelchair. The therapist—Dr. Sven—forces her to rest for ten minutes before moving on to the last part of her session. She brings her a cup of water that Kate only takes a sip of before handing back. The water upsets her stomach right before exercises, during which it is so clenched that it’s sore afterward.

When she’s ready, Dr. Sven helps her onto the mat where she performs several stretches, although nothing that goes anywhere near her chest area. Dr. Sven calls it a form of yoga, but Kate doesn’t remember yoga hurting this much.

As instructed, Kate leans forward as far she dares to wrap her fingers around her feet in a Sitting Forward Bend pose. Her flexibility after being trapped immobile in a bed for days is at an all-time low, but it’s still impressive. It’s just about the only part of her physical condition that remains adequate, but still it’s not up to her standards. She knows she can—she should be able to—do better.

After a few moments she relaxes and repeats the pose, ignoring the strain in her muscles. She moves on to Pigeon Pose with one leg tucked underneath her and the other splayed out behind her like a partial splits.

“Remember to breathe,” says the therapist, and Kate sucks in a deep breath. Her chest revolts in agony.

At the end of the stretches, all of her muscles and joints feel looser and more fluid, but she knows they’ll seize up again in the interlude before her next session. Her therapist has her lie on her back on the mat for Corpse Pose—which has a little too much morbid humor to it for Kate’s taste—and she is unable to relax at all in this position. It reminds her too much of the shooting, of lying on her back in the grass with Castle over her. She sees him in her mind, whispering her name, telling her he loves her. She remembers the life bleeding out of her, the world fading away... She sits up faster than she ought, an uncomfortable twang in her chest. Dr. Sven admonishes her for it, but Kate doesn’t care. Corpse Pose is not for somebody who has actually been a corpse for over half a minute. And remembers it.

“That’s all for today,” the therapist says cheerfully. She rolls the wheelchair up next to Kate and helps her up. Kate’s leaning heavily on Dr. Sven, breaths coming in short gasps. The world seems to be spinning as Dr. Sven wheels her back to her hospital room. Standing up from the floor by far is the hardest thing to do with her wound—even more difficult than walking.

Dr. Sven leaves after situating Kate in the bed. The doctor returns soon after that, inquiring on how she’s feeling. She lies through her teeth and tells him the pain’s not too bad, but she accepts the medication without complaint. Blessed relief begins to flow through her veins, calming and placating her fatigued muscles and pained nerves. To make his visit even sweeter, the doctor tells her that she can be released as soon as she can walk the length of a house by herself—if she has someone to take care of her the next few months. In light of this, he shows her how to change the bandages on her ribcage, her chest, and lastly the bullet wound itself. The first is relatively easy, just a simple bandage over a long cut that has stitches lined up neatly along it like a picket fence. The second and third however, are much messier, with tiny strings of thread criss-crossing each other in a tangled web of suture. She has to be very delicate with these because any tugging at all on the stitches will damage the wound and set her back to square one, when she had first woken up in the hospital.

This entire time, Jim has sat on the chair beside her, watching but not speaking. He now knows how to change the bandages, but she will not let him. When she gets out, this will be something she does herself. A ritualistic act of something she still has control over, even when her body movements, fluid and food intake, and exercise are carefully manipulated and monitored.

The doctor leaves the two of them alone, and Jim asks if she wants to sleep. “No,” she says. “I would never sleep ever again if I didn’t have to.”

He laughs. “When you get back to the precinct, that’s all going to change. Looking forward to going back home?”

“You would not believe how much.”

“Listen, Katie, I’ve only got the next two weeks off from work,” her father says. “The company won’t be happy about it, but I can take more off if you need me around. That is to say, if you decide not to ask him.” This is Josh all over again. Kate knows how hard her father’s worked to get this job, where he’s finally making decent pay and even has some saved up. She also knows how inflexible the schedule is. In the midst of her troubles, she hadn’t even thought about how he managed to get off three weeks in the first place. Trying to take more off now...it could cost him the job altogether. She can’t let him do that for her, not with the amount of work he’s put into getting there. The job was the final step to his recovery from alcoholism, the final thing that kept him sober and focused after so many relapses.

“No, it’s okay, Dad,” she replies. “We can figure it out. You don’t have to do that.” But deep inside, she wonders how she will manage. Based on her recovery so far, even in two weeks time she won’t be well enough to go to the store for groceries or supplies. She’ll be lucky if she can walk around her apartment without too much pain. Ryan, Espo, and Lanie would do anything for her, she knows, but they all work long hours and can’t afford to babysit her either.

She hates that word. Babysit. She doesn’t want to be babysat. She doesn’t want to be a burden on anyone, ask them for anything. Unfortunately, like so many other things in her life right now, it’s out of her control.

That just leaves _him_. The one she doesn’t want to ask, because she’s not sure of the answer. And even if it’s yes, she’s not sure of the motive behind the answer. She knows him so well, and yet...in this, she feels she doesn’t know him at all. But he’s the only one she can ask.

Her fingertips tingle with icy anticipation and her heartbeat quickens. I’ll just talk to him, she promises herself. She won’t plan to ask. But she needs to bring him back. It’s unfair, what she’s doing to him right now, when he hasn’t done anything wrong. The only things he’s done wrong are in the imaginary scenarios she plays out in her head. He doesn’t deserve to be punished for something he didn’t do. Especially when he is doing so much more than she asked of him. Not only is he keeping his distance and respecting her wishes, he’s trying to find her shooter.

She resolves to call him, soon. Tomorrow. She’ll call him, ask him to come by the hospital if he has time. If he says yes, they’ll talk, and she’ll see how it goes.

The tiniest bubble of hope forms inside her heart, floating atop a sea of cold dread.

* * *

Once Alexis falls asleep, he tucks her into bed and turns out the light. For a moment he stands there, watching her chest rise and fall in the semi-darkness. He loves her, so much. It never ceases to amaze him that he and Meredith—one of the world’s most dysfunctional couples—could create a being so perfect. Then he closes the door and retreats downstairs into his room.

He dresses into his pajamas and lies on his back in the king-sized bed, just thinking. About Alexis. About Ashley. About Kate. He loves Alexis. He hates Ashley for not calling. Kate’s a mixture of both of them. He wishes she would call—he could never hate her, no matter what she did—but he loves her as well.

Why doesn’t he call? He rolls over onto his side so that he’s facing the wall. Why doesn’t she call? He flips over to his other side, as if someone else was there with him. He can imagine her slight smile as they fall asleep together. He can feel the softness of her hair brushing against his arm as she snuggles closer to him. He can almost pretend that she’s there with him. Where they can comfort and protect each other from their nightmares together. Where he can stop visiting the hangar, trying in vain to save Montgomery, and she can stop...dying? He doesn’t really know what she dreams about.

Either way, her pretend presence is comforting. Imagining her in his arms, Castle finally falls asleep.

The next day passes quickly, and Castle feels like a squirrel running from the precinct back to the loft and back to the precinct again. He’s still working on the case with Ryan and Esposito—much to Gates’s displeasure—but they’re making preparations for the day they will tell the Captain they’ve got nothing and she will reassign them to the mountain of other ordinary homicides that has slowly been building in their absence. Castle can only manage to sneak a file or two at a time out of the Twelfth, so it takes him more than ten trips throughout the day to bring all the files home and digitize them. He goes to bed near one o’clock, tired but happy. He’s doing it. He’s helping solve her case. He wonders if word of this has gotten back to her yet. He wonders if this will help her see that despite her kicking him out, he still cares for her.

His question is answered by a phone call the next morning. “Castle.”

“Hey.” It’s her. It’s _her_.

“Beckett,” he greets her, barely able to contain his joy. “What’s going on?”

“If...if you have time, can you come by the hospital later this morning? We need to—I want to talk.” Her voice is halting, unsteady, but it’s her voice. She doesn’t sound angry or sad. Just...nervous? Anxious? He can’t quite identify it.

“Yeah, of course,” he responds immediately. He launches himself out of bed, tugging on a pair of pants at random. “I’ll be right over.”

“See you,” she ends the call. Their twenty-three second conversation has him elated, and he practically bounces out of his room and scribbles a note to Martha and Alexis explaining his sudden disappearance. He hails a cab to take him to the hospital, all the while planning what he will say to her first. On second thought, he has the driver make a brief stop at his usual coffee joint. These words have to special. But as he thinks about it, the more discontented he grows. Why did she cut him out of her life? Did she even think, at all, about how much that would hurt him?

He enters the hospital and his feet automatically carry him to her room, as if they had memorized the path in anticipation of his return. Castle nods to the two officers outside her door and they nod back. He peers inside, wondering if Jim’s still around. She’s alone, reading a book. Not one of his, it’s much too thick.

He forces himself to act civilly to her as he walks in. He can’t be angry, or he’ll scare her away from whatever she wants to say. He needs her to see that he’s putting her first, above his own feelings of hurt. He knocks softly and she looks up, an alarmed look in his eyes at his presence before she can mask it. She smiles slightly—forced or no, he can’t tell—and gives a tiny wave to invite him in.

* * *

Castle steps into her room looking calm and relaxed, but the way his eyes are darting around she knows it’s just for show. Upon seeing him, a tumult of feelings arises within her, the least of which is the throbbing of her bullet wound. He speaks first. “Hey, Beckett. I brought you coffee.”

“Sorry, Castle, I’m not allowed to have coffee,” she says regretfully. “Caffeine.”

He smiles. “It’s decaf.”

“Sludge water. Thanks, Castle.” She says it in the usual mocking tone she uses when she teases him. But he knows how much she appreciates it by the genuine smile she gives him, the slight sparkle in her eyes. It was sweet of him to bring it, even if she only takes a sip and sets it on the side table. So many things upset her stomach these days; she doesn’t want coffee to be one of them.

Castle sits down next to her, keeping his hands in his lap and making no attempt to casually touch her like last time. He looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak. Right, she called him here. “I’m sorry I sent you away, Castle,” she says. He’s silent, still waiting. He wants an explanation. “I just...needed some time and space.”

“I understand,” he replies in a neutral tone. “How are you?”

“I’m...I’m on the mend,” she says. “You?”

“Better, now that I’ve seen you,” he says. Something similar to adoration flares in his eyes as he gazes at her. She knows she’s forgiven.

“It’s really good seeing you, too.” Another smile. “I’ve started physical therapy. They say I can be released in about a week if I keep making good progress.” She allows herself another sip of coffee.

“How’s physical therapy?”

Her face clouds. “It’s hard. A lot harder than I thought. I come back from every session sore and exhausted, but it is making me stronger.”

“It’s difficult to coax life back into your limbs after this long. What about other things? Are they still cutting you back on pain medication?”

“It’s stabilized out. I need it after therapy.” He nods affectionately, as if to reassure her that this last statement didn’t make her weaker in his eyes. It’s just what she had been thinking. “The nightmares are still there though.”

”What do you dream about?” He seems genuinely curious, but the question catches her unawares. Montgomery’s shooting. Her own. Death. Her mom. Raglan. The dead she sees her dreams are almost an endless number. But she can’t tell him that, because she lied to him last time, said she didn’t remember the shooting.

“My mom,” she says carefully. “Montgomery. The ER.” That’s the closest she can get to “being shot and dying” but she thinks he understands. A new thought occurs to her. “Do you have them? The dreams?”

“Yeah,” Castle sighs and looks down. “Sometimes you’re there, sometimes I’m alone—searching for Montgomery in that warehouse, trying to find him before he’s killed. It...it never ends well.”

She nods thoughtfully. She hadn’t considered how the traumatic events of the past week might have affected him. She wonders if she should be glad or hurt that he doesn’t dream about her shooting. “I broke up with Josh.” He raises his eyebrows. “Last time you were here. I should’ve told you, but it was still too fresh. I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing.”

“Are you sure now?”

The question catches her off-guard, but she finds she has an answer for it. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. I really liked him, but he wasn’t the one. In the end, he won’t make me happy.” But you might, she adds on silently.

“Miss Beckett?” Dr. Sven interrupts them. “It’s time for your therapy session.” She wheels the wheelchair inside.

Kate looks at Castle, hope written all over her face. “Same time tomorrow?”

He gives her hand a soft, innocent squeeze. “Tomorrow.”

She doesn’t realize until he leaves just how happy simply talking with him has made her.


	9. The Courtyard Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle and Beckett reach an agreement.

The next morning, Castle does not arrive until after her therapy session and Kate had begun to wonder if he had changed his mind and decided not to come after all. The thought had hurt more than she’d imagined it would, but to her relief he was here now, making his apologies for his lateness.

“I had to drop Alexis off at her workshop,” he explains. “She and Ashley are having problems, so I wanted to take her myself. Then Gina called and wanted to make book signing arrangements, and there was a lot of traffic getting back into the city, and...”

“It’s okay, Castle,” she says. She now remembers that even though the hospital room is consistent day-to-day, the world outside keeps on spinning. Unfortunately she’s tired now from her session and barely able to stay awake for him.

“How are you?” he asks.

“On the mend,” she says with a slight smile. “The exercises are tiring and I can’t sleep very well without being able to turn on my side. The dreams are still a nightly occurrence as well.”

“If you wanna sleep, I’ll stay with you,” Castle offers.

“That’s sweet of you, but I’ve already tried it with Lanie. Having someone there doesn’t keep them at bay.”

“I’m not Lanie.”

“Castle, it’s okay, you don’t have to,” she protests. “We can talk first; I’m not that sleepy.”

“Sorry, Kate, your poker face needs a little work,” he replies. “I have my laptop at the loft; I was planning in doing some writing at the Old Haunt. If my watching you is creepy, I can go get it.”

“Yes, exceedingly.” She cannot deny the earnest look in his eyes. He’s not doing this to make up for being late or for failing to prevent her getting shot. He actually wants to do this. Why?

He’s already told me why, she thinks, but dismisses the thought. There’s a logical explanation in there somewhere, and eventually she’ll find it. For now, she can just enjoy what she has. It’s not like it was with Josh—she’s not cheating Castle because, deep down, she feels the same way he says he does. The way she hopes he does.

“All right, I’ll fetch my laptop,” he grins. He’s the excited boy in the candy store again, and...she’s the candy.

When he returns, he’s carrying his computer and her eyes are closed. She’d tried to stay awake for him by counting up the number of times they’d done things for each other...she’d saved his life four times, and he’d done it eight. Eight? That can’t be right. She’s not even counting the phone call warning her of the bomb in her apartment because she’d heard the “Goodbye, Nikki” recording at virtually the same time. How is it possible he’s saved her life more times than she has his? She supposes that as a true cop, she puts hers in more danger more often. That has to be what it is. She resolves to work harder when she gets back to the precinct, make their numbers a little more even.

He sets his laptop on the table and boots it, sitting down again. He moves it to his lap and clicks a couple times before placing a warm hand on top of hers. Her fingers move feebly and find his, curling around them.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he whispers.

“Barely,” she breathes, eyes still closed.

“Just go to sleep. I’m right here,” he says. He begins to type one-handedly, the other still in her soft grip. He makes no move to retrieve it and, a few seconds later, she’s asleep.

She wakes gently several hours later to the tapping of keys to find him still sitting there and her hand still in his. She’s loathe to let go, but she retracts her hand and runs it shakily through her hair. He reclaims his without complaint.

“Good morning,” he greets her.

“Good mor—morning? I slept through the entire day? And you stayed? Castle, you should have gone home!”

He grins. “Just kidding. It’s afternoon. Around three o’clock.”

“Oh. Castle!”

“Sorry. Just had to see your expression. How was your nap?”

“Don’t use the word nap, Castle; it makes me feel like an old woman.”

“Rest. Doze. Snooze. Siesta. Ooh, siesta,” he decides. “How was your siesta?”

“Pretty good, thanks.” Pretty good is an understatement. She normally has a nightmare or two every three hours, and yet she slept for four without a single one. But she doesn’t want to tell Castle exactly how much he calms her, comforts her, relaxes her. That would make him feel like he has to stay on her account. She doesn’t want him to stay out of obligation. If he visits, he should do it because he wants to.

“Glad I could help,” he smiles. He closes his laptop and sets it on the side table. “So, what now?”

“We could talk,” she suggests. “Or you could go, if you have somewhere else to be.”

“No, nowhere else.” He glances at the wheelchair in the corner. “Are you allowed outside?”

The question gives her pause. “I don’t know. I don’t think there’s a reason why not.” Castle calls in a nurse and consults her and then gives Kate a thumbs-up. The nurse helps maneuver her into the wheelchair, a lengthy and painful process. Once comfortably seated, Kate smoothes down the front of her short hospital gown self-consciously.

“Ready?” Castle asks. She nods, mouth clamped shut in anticipation. He begins to wheel her gently down the hallway and into the bright sunlight. At first it blinds her and leaves her blinking rapidly. After a few moments her eyes adjust and she finds herself in a large courtyard with paved walkways, trees, and vibrantly colored flowers. There are a few other patients milling around or sitting on the benches, but most of all everything is relaxed. Peaceful.

The slight breeze whistles through the courtyard and she feels her worries disappear, borne away on the wind. A sense of tranquility creeps over her as Castle parks the wheelchair next to an empty bench and sits down beside her. “Better?”

“Much,” she answers, lips curving upward in a smile. “It’s nice out here.”

* * *

Castle smiles in return as she looks out at the courtyard again. The clouds are reflected in her brown eyes, and he’s close enough to touch her if he wants to. But he doesn’t think she’d appreciate that right now. He was surprised she’d allowed his hand for so long earlier.

As he watches her, a sense of longing forms in the pit of his stomach. He’s glad to be here, happy she’s spending time with him. But he wants more. He longs to run his hands through her soft waves of hair, despite its being more lackluster than normal. He longs to sweep it away from her face, like he did...like he did the night he keeps visiting in his dreams. As he had held her down against the car with his hand over her mouth, he had seen the pain in her eyes, the desperation, the anguish. He had seen the tears in her eyes, had heard the whimper that escaped her mouth. She had reached up and touched his face, whether as a sign of understanding the necessity of it all or to try to push him away he doesn’t know. He prefers to think the former.

“Have they told you when they’ll release you?” he asks.

She doesn’t look at him but answers, “Maybe a week? If I have someone to take care of me at home.”

“Your dad?” He’s secretly hoping that by some miracle she’ll ask him. Castle would be delighted to take care of her. Because he wants to help, yes, but also because it would mean she did really, completely, forgive him for his part in this. It would mean their relationship has a chance.

“No, he has to go back to work. I haven’t really thought that far ahead.”

Kate Beckett, not plan that far ahead? He doesn’t believe her, not for a second. She’s been waiting to be released since she first arrived, and she doesn’t have a plan for fulfilling the requirements? No way.

“If you want, I’d be happy to do it,” he suggests softly. His voice is carefully controlled, not sounding apathetic but not overly eager either. Either one might send the wrong message, or worse, scare her off.

Her head whips around to face him, surprise written all over her face. He squirms and feels the need to support his statement with logic. “I mean, I’m a writer. I can write from anywhere. I don’t live that far away from your apartment, and Alexis has Gram. Besides, it’s not that far from my loft to your apartment if she needs me.”

“You would really do that? For me?” She still looks shocked, searching his face for motive. Her eyes are wide with disbelief.

“Of course.” He smiles, and slowly she does too.

She looks away again and asks, this time in a teasing voice, “Sure you’re not doing this just to get in my bed, Castle?”

“Wouldn’t be much point, now would there? You can’t do much more than cuddle right now.”

She turns to him, amusement glittering in her eyes. “Are you saying you don’t want to cuddle with me, Castle?”

He narrows his eyes. “Alexis tells me I’m a very good cuddler, like a big teddy bear. You’d be lucky to have me.”

“You’re still sleeping on the couch.”

“Deal.”

Her hand finds his for a quick squeeze before she releases it. “Thanks again, Castle.”

“Always.” She smiles in recognition of the word, their word, and asks, “So, tell me what’s happening in the outside world. Espo’s mentioned Captain Gates a couple times. What did you think of her? Anything I should watch out for when I go back?”

“Let’s just say we didn’t hit it off too well.”

“Oh, Castle, what’d you do?”

* * *

With a jingle of keys, Castle unlocks the door to the loft and steps inside. “Where’ve you been?” Alexis asks disconsolately from the sofa. Her phone lies untouched on the table.

“I was visiting Kate,” he replies apologetically. “Ashley?”

“Nothing.” She fiercely wipes away a tear. “I wish he would just call so I would know either way. How long am I supposed to wait, Dad? How long am I supposed to wait for his call?”

“It depends,” Castle sits down next to her. “How long is it worth?”

She sighs. “I don’t know.”

“Only you can answer that question,” Castle tells her gently. “You have to decide at what point if he did call, you wouldn’t take him back. When the relationship has reached its breaking point where nothing is going to fix it.”

She nods. “How’s Detective Beckett?”

“She’ll be out of the hospital in a week, we think.”

“That’s great,” Alexis manages a small smile.

“Afterwards, though, I’m going to have to take care of her for a while,” Castle explains to her daughter. He doesn’t notice her slight frown. “She’ll still be very weak, so I’ll spend a lot of nights at her place.”

“’kay,” Alexis says. She stands abruptly and sweeps up her phone from the tabletop. “I promised I’d call Paige. See you at dinner, Dad.” She runs up the stairs with Castle looking after her bewilderedly. Had he said something wrong?


	10. Love and Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Castle and Martha's help, Alexis decides what to do about Ashley.

“Alexis! Mother! Dinner!” Castle calls. Martha bounces down the staircase and washes her hands at the sink. She gets three plates and doles out generous servings of spaghetti on each, placing them on the table. Castle pours the drinks and then looks around. Maybe Alexis has her music going and can’t hear him. “Alexis?” Castle knocks on her door. “Are you okay?” There’s no answer. Castle places his hand on the doorknob slowly, trying to decide if barging in is an intrusion. Before he can do anything, however, it swings open and Alexis appears.

“I heard,” she says shortly. Castle follows her down the stairs and back to the dining table. He can tell she’s mad at him by the way she places the silverware in the wrong order at just his place setting. But why?

“So, how was your day, Mother?” he breaks the formidable silence.

“Oh, lovely darling. My acting studio has started doing a little improv before we start our next production, and my students are just magnificent! Such talent, energy, so much potential.”

“That’s great!” Castle says. “Alexis?”

“It was fine,” Alexis says, stabbing at her spaghetti.

“Nothing from Ashley?” Castle asks sympathetically. “He said he’d call me tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Castle says carefully. Is it good?

“That was the day before yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Darling,” Martha says, taking Alexis’s hand.

She pulls hers away and into her lap. “He texted me an hour ago. He wants to meet at the park tomorrow at noon.” Castle exchanges a perplexed glance with Martha. Is letting Alexis go alone smart? Can he even stop her, if she is determined to go? Does she even want to? Alexis is hard to read right now, possibly even harder than Kate—and that’s saying something.

“Do you...are you going to?” Castle asks. He’s not sure what he wants her to say, although his gut is wrenching him into hoping she’ll say no and close this chapter of her life with Ashley for good. And maybe not date at all for a while.

“I don’t know.” Alexis’s voice is flat, betraying the depth of her pain. “I want to see him. I want an explanation. But I don’t want to just forgive him and have this happen all over again. I don’t know if I want to put myself in that situation.”

“Well, you’ll never know what could be until you try,” Martha exclaims. “You should go.”

Castle gives his mother a what-are-you-doing look and then says to Alexis, “If you don’t think anything he can say will mend your relationship, then don’t go. Break it off with him. Ashley’s in the wrong here, not you. You don’t owe him anything.”

“We were in love, Dad,” Alexis says. “That goes two ways. I at least owe him the chance to give an explanation.”

He sighs inwardly. “Then go,” Castle advises his daughter. It’s against his better judgment, but her happiness means more to him. It’s not like he doesn’t know Ashley, he thinks. He’s met the guy before, and suitably freaked him out by waving around a gun. Ashley definitely has the proper respect for Alexis, and for him. Even though it feels like it’s been forever, in reality they’ve only been apart for less than a week.

“Then it’s settled,” Martha says with all too much enthusiasm. “As I always say, Alexis, if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. If it’s not, then there’s nothing you can do to save it. Love is tricky like that—especially young love.”

Alexis nods uncertainly. “Thanks, Gram.”

* * *

Wind rustles through the courtyard, playing with her hair for a fleeting moment before whisking away. Her eyes trail after it, watching its effects on the treetops before it disappears from view completely. Castle touches her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

He waits a second for her to elaborate, and when she doesn’t, asks, “About?”

“Getting back to the precinct. I keep imagining the day in my mind, but Montgomery is always there to greet me, not this... _Captain Gates_. It’s hard to accept that everything won’t be the same when I get back.”

Castle’s silent for the moment. “It’s odd, not having Montgomery around and seeing someone else in his office, sitting at his desk.”

“The awful part is that you never lose that feeling,” Kate says softly. She doesn’t feel like crying; she’s too numb for tears. “Even twelve years later, I still sometimes expect my mother to walk through the door. When I first woke up in the hospital, I thought I’d...I thought I’d see her. I thought she’d come sit at my bedside, and we could talk and laugh like we used to. She would make me feel better, forget where I am and why. It was nice...for a few seconds. And then she was gone again.”

He looks at her sympathetically. “I didn’t know. I’ve never lost anyone before.”

“What about your dad?” She’s genuinely curious.

“Well, I never knew him,” Castle answers readily. “You can’t expect or miss something you’ve never experienced.”

“I understand,” Kate says, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t understand why Castle doesn’t feel like there’s a gaping hole in his life where all his father-son memories should be. She can’t imagine her childhood without her dad. Doesn’t Castle see what he’s missing? That special relationship is ever-present in books, movies, and TV shows. Has he never longed to see what that’s like? Or maybe he does, but the pain has been a part of him so long that he’s managed to all but bury it in other things. After all, he’s lived with it all his life.

Kate shakes her head to clear it. “We should be getting back. They don’t want me out here too long.” Castle stands and obeys immediately, wrapping his hands around the wheelchair handles and pushing forward. Her seat bounces over a crack in the concrete and jars her, causing a surge of pain in her chest. She winces and places a hand to it, but touching will only increase her discomfort. “A bit slower, please,” she requests, and Castle slows down apologetically.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” he asks.

“Not much,” she replies. “The bumps are painful, that’s all.”

Within a few minutes, she is situated in the hospital bed again. She’s already wishing she were back outside with the sunshine, wind, and plants. Castle checks his phone. “Waiting to hear from someone?” Kate asks.

He sighs. “Just my mother. Alexis is meeting Ashley at the park today and Mother went along to keep an eye on them.”

“A bit intrusive of her, but I can see why.”

He frowns. “What would you have done in Alexis’s situation, when you were her age?”

Kate pauses, thinking about her wild child days, when romance had been fun and fleeting. But Alexis is not a very aloof teenager, so she goes back a little further, to her younger teen days. When it had been new and every moment magical. “I would have met him.”

“Would you have forgiven him?”

“If I thought he was the one...I would have forgiven just about anything.” She’s slightly embarrassed of this truthfulness. She has mixed feelings about the whole premise. She thinks it’s naïve of her younger self to be so lenient, but at the same time she regrets that loss of innocence. As an adult with all the difficult events in her life under her belt, nothing is that simple anymore. She’s forced to second-guess everything, and little nagging doubts give her no peace of mind. Part of her believes fate—or the universe, as Castle would say—is out to get her. Part of her is waiting for the next horrific event to sweep everything she has away again. What she would give to be that carefree again.

Castle looks uncomfortable with that statement. Obviously he was hoping Alexis would move on from Ashley. “Well,” I should probably go,” he says. “See you tomorrow.”

She smiles, still amazed he comes so often. She wants to hear about the outside world, even if she’s not allowed in it. “See you.”

* * *

“Mother, how was it?” Castle asks in lieu of a greeting. Martha is seated on the couch thoroughly engrossed in a fashion magazine.

“Oh, it was lovely!” Martha exclaims, looking up and setting it down. “I believe the boy even cried.”

“Cried? After she broke up with him?” He’s wondering if he’ll have to deal with a heartbroken Alexis when he goes up to her room.

“Oh no, about something else. An apology, perhaps.”

Martha looks thoroughly happy with this outcome, while Castle’s feelings go both ways. He knows he’ll have to speak with Alexis for the full story. “Where is she?”

“Up in her room, on the phone with him,” Martha says. “They were talking the whole way home and since.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Oh, two hours.” Things must really be repaired between them then. Alexis’s fears about going to Stanford alone are unfounded. He won’t disturb her until she disconnects from her phone and comes downstairs herself. He’ll let the two chat, reconnect.

And he’s happy for her. He’s happy that she’s happy. But he can’t shake the terrible feeling of apprehension about this relationship.

Maybe he’s being silly and overprotective. He knows he can be that way sometimes. Maybe he just doesn’t like that this is a part of her life he can’t protect her from. That must be it.

The feeling lingers long after thoughts of Alexis and Ashley have left his mind.


	11. Homeward Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally released from the hospital, Beckett goes home.

“What do you remember about your shooting, Kate?” Dr. Burke, the dark-skinned man seated across from her, appears completely relaxed and attentive. His posture is open, inviting, and thoroughly focused. It’s obvious he wants her to feel comfortable in his presence, but it’s so different than what she’s used to it actually has the opposite effect.

“I’m not here for a psych eval,” she replies. “I’m going to be released from the hospital tomorrow and they said I should come talk to you. About things I might experience during the healing process.”

“You don’t think talking about the incident will be beneficial?” His tone is not curious or accusatory, but rather one of mild interest. He’s letting her control the situation, call the shots. She’s not used to being handed power so readily. She has to remind herself that this is not an interrogation room; there is no grapple for dominance here.

“No, I don’t,” she says firmly. “I don’t want to.”

“It’s your decision, of course. But I’ve often found that in talking it out, patients of mine can see their issues more clearly and recover faster.” He waits for her response.

“No thanks.” She doesn’t want to relive it by talking about it. Even skirting around the subject puts her on edge and makes her uncomfortable, rousing a deep ache in her chest.

“All right. Well, here’s what I can tell you: shooting victims often experience some form of post-traumatic stress disorder. Are you aware of the symptoms?” Kate nods quickly, a sharp dip of her chin and back up again. “Some major things to look out for are nightmares and triggers.”

“Triggers?”

“Objects, places, or people that subconsciously remind you of the shooting. Obvious ones might be a sniper rifle or the cemetery itself, but less obvious ones might be a whistle you heard right beforehand or something as mundane as that.”

“Could it be a person?” Kate asks in spite of herself. “An action, or position?”

“Yes,” Dr. Burke nods slowly. “Why do you ask?”

She ignores the question and proceeds with one of her own, one that instills fear in her heart. “How do you know if someone or something is a trigger?” She’s thinking about Castle and his profession of love.

“If it’s a trigger, you’ll know. Triggers will set off involuntary and oftentimes surprising reactions in you, such as taking cover, crying, screaming, or evoking nightmares.” Kate frowns. She can’t imagine herself doing any of those things, except maybe the dreams. Those have already begun to haunt her.

Then his words sink in and she breathes a sigh of relief. Castle is not a trigger. He causes no adverse reaction in her, and his presence even keeps some of the nightmares at bay. She’d glad she won’t have to deal with that on top of everything else. Because most of all, she wants Castle at her side for this. She likes the thought of having her partner every step of the way.

* * *

“Hey, Dad!” Alexis greets him with a smile. “What are you making?”

Castle side-steps to cover his work before adding the finishing touches and brandishing the completed plate.

Alexis’s eyes widen. “My favorite pancakes! What’s the occasion?” She takes the plate from him and sets it on the counter. She hunts down a fork and digs in with gusto, a sight that makes Castle smile.

“Well, as you know, I’m going home with Beckett today,” Castle says, drizzling batter for another large pancake onto the pan.

“Oh. Right,” Alexis mumbles. She sets her fork down and wipes a bit of chocolate syrup from the corner of her mouth with a napkin. She’s obviously unhappy, and Castle gives her an inquisitive look.

“Do you have a problem with that, sweetheart?”

“Well…no,” Alexis looks unsure of herself. She’s doing that thing she has since she was no higher than his waist where she chews on her lower lip while she’s thinking, and despite the situation Castle can’t help but marvel at how adorable it still is. “I mean, I guess not. I just wish you’d asked me first, you know?”

“Alexis, I don’t need your permission.”

She looks at him, something unreadable in her blue eyes. “I know. But...you’ve always had a bit of a blind spot where Beckett is concerned. And I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, I mean, I do it too, but...any one of us could have been shot at that funeral, Dad. I got an up-close look at what you two go through daily, and I don’t like what I see. It’s dangerous, and scary, and risky. What if I had needed you, here?”

“I’m sorry, Alexis. Do you need me here?” Castle’s concerned gaze bores into his daughter, and she looks down with the weight of it.

“No, I guess not. I just wish you would have asked my opinion, because it affects me too.”

“Next time, I will. I’m sorry. Are we okay?”

Alexis stands up and hugs him around the waist, murmuring into his shirt, “Yeah, Dad, we’re okay. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetie.” Alexis finishes her pancake while Castle scrapes the burned one off the pan. By the time Martha comes down, he’s got a steaming stack on a plate waiting for smiley faces. Maybe he’ll take one to Beckett.

* * *

“Are you sure you’re ready to take this step?” The doctor is standing in front of her, holding a clipboard. That packet of papers is her ticket out of here, and she’s itching to get her hands on it.

“Don’t rush into this, Katie,” her father advises her. “There’s nothing wrong with staying in here a few more days to regain more of your strength.”

She glances at Castle, who’s loitering unobtrusively by the door. “No, Dad, really, I’m fine. I want to get back out into the world, even if it does require a wheelchair for a while.” She’s smiling as she says this, practically giddy with happiness. She’s getting out of here, finally. Her patience, her pushing through the pain has paid off. She’s going home. With Castle even, her mind adds.

“All right,” the doctor agrees reluctantly. “Sign at the bottom of all of these. I’ll give you some time to read through them.” He and the nurse exit out the door, leaving the three of them alone. She peruses the documents, aware of Castle and her father chatting softly in the background. She really just wants to sign on every line and hand it back, but her sensible side forces her to read them all.

When she’s done, Jim hails back the nurse who gives them a once-over and then smiles at Kate. The normal struggle to get into the wheelchair seems to Kate to take double the regular amount of time, but at last she’s seated and ready to roll. Castle wheels her out the door, the hospital room and its horrors fading away like a long-lost dream with every rotation of the wheels.

She looks up at Castle and he smiles down at her. Suddenly the chair speeds to the side to avoid another patient on crutches and Kate winces, rolling her eyes. “Watch where you’re going, Castle.”

“Sorry,” he says. He leans down, breath tickling her ear as he whispers. “Looking down the front of your gown is just so distracting.”

“Castle!” she jerks her head away, sucking in air at the quick movement. Her chest throbs, but more importantly she can’t believe he said that. Well, yes, she can. He _is_ Richard Castle after all.

If she could, she would slap him. Playfully. Somewhat. But she can’t; her arms don’t rise up that high right now. She settles for tucking in the front of her gown—already very tucked! the bastard—and shooting him a dirty look. From above, he’s laughing at her.

Outside the hospital, she takes in the stoplights, streets, and numerous cars like she’s never been to the city before. She’s delighting in every facet of the hustle and bustle of everyday life, and she thinks she could just spend hours watching vehicles zoom by. Her dad helps her into the front seat of his car and Castle stows the wheelchair in the back before climbing in himself. Jim pulls out onto the road with ease, glancing at her every so often. When they finally arrive at her apartment complex, she asks for the key and Castle hands it to her.

She pushes open the car door and stops immediately, because stretching her arm out that far is painful. She’s reminded, constantly reminded, that she’s still weak and recuperating, but she’s determined to make it to her apartment without help. Castle and Jim both try to dissuade her as she stumbles through the front door, but in the end her stubbornness wins out and Castle fetches the wheelchair from the trunk but steers it empty.

She shudders uncontrollably as she reaches the elevator, eyes fluttering shut. As the metal box slides smoothly upward, she’s literally swaying on her feet. Castle catches her arm but she shakes him off as the doors ding open, forcing her legs to move once again. Her hands are shaking as she slips the key into the lock, missing several times in the process. She turns it fluidly and hears a satisfying click before the door swings open.

Her apartment is dark and filled with shadows. Curtains have been pulled over the windows, but she knows the layout well enough and is not afraid of the dark. She makes her way to an armchair and sinks down into it, resting her head on the back of it with her eyes closed. Neither Jim nor Castle say anything but begin letting the light back into her apartment, one window at a time. She opens her eyes again to find the wheelchair situated in a corner and Jim laying something on the coffee table. Two things.

She picks one up, turning it over in her hands so that the ring’s diamond catches and refracts the light. She slips the necklace over her head and over the purchased hospital gown. She had lobbied to wear her own clothes out, but they had insisted it would be too rough on her wounds to wear anything but these loose-fitting garments. Putting both the necklace and the watch on, like the makeup, does wonders to help her feel like herself again. The makeup had been external—she felt empowered and got sense of normalcy through it—but this was more of an internal thing. Reunited with these two items, they fill a hole in her heart that she hadn’t even noticed existed. With them, she feels complete. Or as complete as she ever had since her mother’s death.

“You okay, Katie?” her father asks, kneeling in front of her with a concerned expression.

She forces herself to smile. She must have looked a bit melancholy for a moment. “Yeah, Dad, I’m fine. Little bit hungry though. Do you think you could make lunch?”

“Of course.” Jim stands and enters the kitchen. It’ll help, she thinks, to give him something to do. She’s not really hungry; Castle’s pancake from this morning still weighs heavily in her stomach. Over the course of her time in the hospital, her stomach seems to have shrunk down to a fourth its size. She knows it worries all of them, to see how thin she’s become. But she’s convinced with good food and sleep, she’ll gain it all back again. Between her father and Castle, food is definitely taken care of.

Castle sits down next to her, taking in the necklace and the watch with one smooth glance. “Good to be home?”

She smiles. “Good to be home.”


	12. Once Upon a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beckett's first day at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays!

The voice in her head is clear, familiar, comforting with every rise and fall in cadence. It makes her feel safe, secure. It makes her forget who she is now and remember who she was. The person she might have grown up to be.

“Once upon a time, there was a princess with long blonde hair, a cheery smile, and a good heart. She lived in a magical kingdom bordered by tall mountains, a deep forest, and a large ocean...” Kate closes the photo album, the memory fading away along with it. She swallows hard, running her thumb over its front. The year on the leather cover reads 1990, when she was nine. Her mother loved to read her fairytales even beyond her princess-years, and this one was their favorite. Johanna didn’t read it from a book, and Kate doesn’t know where it originally came from. She simply told it to her, each time changing the plot and the ending but always beginning the same, with those two lines, now irrevocably burned into Kate’s memory. It could be the tale of valiant fights with dragons or saving a beggar woman from a life of hunger. Sometimes it had a dashing young prince, sometimes not. But without exception, the princess always found in herself enough strength to overcome the obstacles, whatever they may be. It went along with her mother’s saying, “Life never delivers anything we can’t handle.”

When Kate turned thirteen, she declared herself too old for fairytales and delved instead into first fantasy novels, then comic books, and finally in her late teens mystery novels. She regrets that so much now. She regrets that she stopped listening to her mother’s stories. She wishes she would have kept going, not pushed to grow up so fast. As a child, that’s all she wanted to be. Grown up. Now, there’s nothing she wouldn’t give to be back there again.

Kate carefully places the album back in the box with the others. She doesn’t know why she opened it at all. She puts the lid back on the box and drapes a folded blanket over it, probably heavier an item than she’s supposed to be lifting. Castle’s banging pots and pans in the kitchen and her father’s out shopping. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to be doing. Nothing, she guesses. She wishes they would give her something, a task, something to occupy her time. Since returning home seven hours ago, all she’s done is eat and rest.

Now she’s sitting cross-legged on the floor simply exploring the items in her living room. The TV and the books on her shelf hold no interest for her at this moment, and neither does she want to continue looking at photo albums. Yesterday she had been anxious to be released from the hospital. Today she realizes there’s little difference between here and there.

What had she been expecting? To arrive home and miraculously be fit for duty once again? The indignity of it all is crushing, exacerbated by Castle and her father’s presence. She can’t walk more than from one room to the next one over. Getting up from the couch is two-and-a-half minute process and her chest is constantly on fire. She knows she should’ve taken pain medicine an hour ago, but it’s in the kitchen and she can’t even get herself up off the carpet.

All she has to do is ask. One word from her and Castle will come running, help her up, get her whatever she needs. The same with her father. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t want to be dependent on them for anything, and she hates that she is. She can see the worry that creases her father’s forehead every time he looks at her, and the concern in Castle’s eyes makes her want to scream and hit something. Her every request for help, wince of pain, and sigh of tiredness tears down her reputation a little bit more, a reputation she’s been building for thirteen years. She’s supposed to be the strong one. She’s supposed to power through, even when others have given up. She’s supposed to be independent.

Ever since Johanna’s death, this is who she has molded herself into. She built her wall inside and shaped her appearance and actions so that she was the beacon of hope and fortitude for everyone else around. She set aside her own feelings, her own grief, to take care of her father. She buried them deep inside, behind that impenetrable wall. She pulled herself together for him, sharpened her mind and stoked her determination so that she could be whole once again. So that she could support him, he who was broken. She stuffed every feeling that didn’t align with her goal behind that wall, building it up and enforcing it with a steel willpower. She conditioned her mind to think that way and she let go of what let her be carefree and what let her believe in the magical or the impossible. There was no room for such frivolous nonsense. It wasn’t until she was made Detective that she realized the wall was truly impenetrable, just like she wanted—except it was impenetrable to her, too. She realized she had trapped herself inside with them as well.

And then Castle came along. When they had first met, he read her so easily... She had hated him then. But not just because he was a humongous jackass, because he found the cracks in her armor, cracks she didn’t even know existed. And he wasn’t just content to find them, he had to peek inside, burrow himself there, widen them and threaten to let the entire world in. She couldn’t have that. That wall was all she had to hold onto, the thing keeping her grounded. That wall was who she had become, and without it she was far too vulnerable. She scratched and clawed to keep it intact, but no matter what she did he slowly wormed his way inside.

So here he is now, wedged in the largest crack at all. He’s got a hand inside and is firmly planted there. Shoving him out completely is the easiest option, but she’s gotten addicted to him pushing her buttons. A small part of her longs for him to finally break it down, but the thought terrifies her. She doesn’t want to open herself up to hurt like what she has felt before.

For all of her tough act, inside it is truly fear that rules her. And she can’t ask for help because she fears he’ll see that. Like he saw her so clearly when they first met.

* * *

Castle frowns, listening intently. Nothing. He hasn’t heard so much as a peep from her since he started cooking, and it worries him. But as much as he wants to go out there and check on her, he thinks his babysitter-ness will be entirely unwelcome. Luckily, dinner is almost done anyway.

He finishes chopping the last tomato with a flourish and dumps the whole lot into the pot of angel hair pasta. Though the water has been strained out, steam rises in wisps from the mixture. After stirring it thoroughly, he serves it onto three plates and leaves the rest on the stove. Carrying the plates to the small dining table, he hears the front door close and a moment later Jim comes in with bags of groceries. The pasta, olive oil, and salt they had found in her cupboard and the tomatoes and garlic Castle had brought over were fine for one meal, but Kate didn’t keep much else around.

Jim nods in appreciation of the smell and the colorful look of the dish. “I’ll get Katie.” Castle agrees and systematically opens the drawers in search of forks. He’s yet to get used to the organizational structure of her sparse kitchen. He sets everything on the table and sits down. After another few seconds, Kate appears, treading slowly but determinedly to the table and sinking down into the chair next to him. He wishes she would just use the wheelchair, but nothing he or Jim has said will convince her to do that. Her father sits on her other side.

Reaching for his fork, Castle is stopped suddenly as Jim says grace and Kate says it softly with him. He sits silently until they finish, not knowing the prayer and a little unsure how to proceed. Martha had never raised him to pray before meals; religion didn’t play a big role in his life at all. He doesn’t assert the notion that there is _not_ a God, but he doesn’t put faith into it either. It surprises him for some reason that Jim is religious, if only because that would mean Kate was raised that way as well. Even in the many instances in which they thought they were about to die, he has never seen her pray.

The three of them dig in, Kate complimenting the food and Jim making small talk. During a lull in the conversation, Jim sets his fork down. “Katie, there’s something I have to tell you.”

She looks at him, confused, setting hers down with a clink as well. “What is it, Dad?”

“I got a call while I was out. They want me back to work tomorrow, six a.m.” Kate masks her thoughts by looking down at her plate, and Castle’s happiness that they’ll be alone together is quickly replaced by apprehension. He’d been counting on Jim as a buffer for at least the first week, but now it will just be the two of them. A bit of a daunting prospect.

“That’s okay, Dad,” she says, giving him a small smile. “I’ll be fine here with Castle.”

Jim nods. “I’m sorry, Katie.”

After dinner Jim washes the dishes and Castle squares away the leftovers into the fridge—another meal’s worth, now that it’s just the two of them. Kate excuses herself for bed and kisses her father both goodnight and goodbye, leaving the two men in the kitchen together. “Leaving soon?” Castle asks as Jim dries his hands on the towel.

“In a little while,” Jim says, sitting back down at the table. “I don’t want to go just yet.” Castle nods and sits down across from him. “So, what are you going to do all this time while you’re staying here? It was very generous of you to offer.”

“I don’t really know,” Castle shrugs.

“She won’t like it if you hover,” Jim warns him, and Castle laughs.

“I know. On our third-or-so case together, she yelled at me for watching her do paperwork. Said it was creepy.”

Jim laughs. “Why were you watching her? She tells me you usually leave for the boring parts of her job.”

“My last Derrick Storm book, _Storm Fall_ , was coming out that day.”

“So you were hiding.” Jim, Castle reflects, is as acute as Beckett had been on that day.

“Well...sort of.” Castle shifts in his seat.

“I read your latest book the other day—“ Jim looks slightly amused.

“Oh, what’d you think?” Castle cuts in.

Jim continues in the same tone. “— _Naked Heat_.” He looks at Castle shrewdly.

“Oh.” Castle makes the connection and scrambles to explain himself. “Though...though my books are...are _grounded_ in reality, a lot of uh, the aspects of them are actually just pure fantasy.” Jim narrows his eyes, and Castle backtracks. “Not my...not my personal fantasies. Just out of my imagination.” He squirms in his seat as Jim Beckett gives him a third look. “Not that I’m imagining that all the time! I’m...I just...I’m not doing a very good job of explaining myself.”

Jim’s mouth curves upward in the slightest hint of a smile, a twinkle in his eyes. “I think you’re doing fine, Rick. But seeing as I am leaving her incapacitated in your care, I would know your intentions.” Jim affixes him with a firm, unblinking gaze.

“Help her get better,” Castle answers readily. “Be a friend. Take care of her until she can do that herself.”

“And after that?”

Now Castle looks down. “After that, we’ll see what happens.”

Jim nods like this is an acceptable answer. “Be careful with her, Rick. No one was more surprised than I when she accepted your offer to stay here. It’s not like her, and even getting shot can’t change someone that much, that quickly. Even though she’s made a move to let you in, she’ll try to hide it from you. Her pain. Her misery.”

“Why?” Castle asks. He desperately wants to know the answer, to figure Kate out. If anyone can, it’s probably her father.

“Only she can answer that,” Jim nods gravely. “This is your chance, Rick. This is her chance. You’re the only one who can draw her out despite her kicking and clawing to stay hidden. So do it.” Castle’s brow creases as he takes in Jim’s words. “I should be going. I’ll be in touch.” Jim grabs his coat off the rack and opens the front door, Castle trailing him like a puppy. “Oh, and Rick?” He turns back, steely eyes reminiscent of Beckett’s in the interrogation room. “Break her heart, and Esposito and Ryan will have a new murder to solve before the next morning.”

“Duly noted,” Castle smiles. Jim Beckett shuts the door behind him with a click and Castle locks it. He arranges the pillows and blankets on the couch and gets ready for bed. No sounds come from Kate’s room, so she must already be asleep. He perches on the edge of the couch and withdraws his phone from his pocket.

“Hey Alexis,” he says.

“Hi, Dad!” She’s obviously excited—and maybe a little surprised—to receive his call. “How’s Detective Beckett? Did she get out of the hospital okay?”

“Yeah, she’s home now,” Castle smiles. “How was your day?”

He can imagine her grinning on the other end. “Well, any day that starts with smiley-face pancakes is bound to be a good one. Gram insisted I invite Ashley over and she vacated the loft for us. We spent the entire day watching movies from your zombie apocalypse shelf. And—“ She pauses for dramatic emphasis. “— _he_ doesn’t use me as a human shield against the zombies like you do.”

“Survival instincts are evolutionary,” Castle argues. “I can’t help that I’m more evolved than him.” “Sure, Dad. Keep telling yourself that,” Alexis laughs.

“Okay, well, I’m glad you had fun,” Castle says. “I’ll let you get to sleep now. Wait. Are you ever going to tell me what happened during those few days you and Ashley weren’t speaking?”

“I’m sorry, Dad, but it’s a family matter. Ashley asked me not to tell anyone.” She sounds sincerely apologetic.

“Nah, it’s fine. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Dad! Love you!” He places his phone back in his pocket and settles back onto the couch, pulling the blankets up over his body. For a couch, the sofa is surprisingly comfy. So he doesn’t know what it is that wakes him up in the middle of the night. But as he waits patiently for sleep to claim him again, he hears a faint sound in the darkness. He sits up, attuning his ears to it. Crying. Soft crying.

He slips off the couch and pads down the hallway, coming to a stop outside Kate’s bedroom door. It’s definitely coming from inside. He places his hand gently on the door handle.

Then he twists it and opens the door.


	13. Tears in the Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beckett can't sleep.

Moonlight combined with city lights streams in the window, playing across her body and accentuating the shadows of her form. She’s sitting up in the bed, legs tucked up to her chest and her head in her arms. Soft sobbing noises emanate from her, but as Castle takes another step forward a floorboard creaks. Her head whips up and she looks like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide and red, cheeks wet, and body trembling like a leaf.

“Hey, Kate, what’s wrong?” He moves quickly before she can react, sitting on the bed beside her. He hesitantly places an arm around her shaking shoulders and to his surprise she leans into him, placing her hand on his chest and burrowing into the crook of his arm. Her hair tickles his chin as he rocks her gently, heart swelling with both love and concern.

He almost doesn’t catch her pained whisper. “I can feel the bullet, Castle.”

He hugs her more tightly to him. “What do you mean?”

“Whenever I’m asleep, I go back to that podium. And the man shoots me, again and again. I feel the bullet blast into me, dig into my chest, get lodged there. Castle, I can feel it there now, stuck inside me, and I can’t get it out.” She dissolves into tears again. “I can’t get it out, Castle. I can’t get it out.”

He can feel her pain as if it were his own; as he cradles her he’s nearly in tears too. One hand strokes her hair and the other pulls her impossibly closer. “It’s not there, Kate, it’s not inside of you. It’s not there,” he whispers. Her pain is breaking his heart in two, overwhelming him with its intensity. He has no idea how she bore this much, alone, at the hospital. “It’s not there,” he repeats. She’s still trembling beneath him, and he’s still stroking her hair. He doesn’t know how to do this, how to comfort her. He’s never seen her like this before, never seen her in a complete breakdown. At the most he’s held her hand, once, twice. Maybe a hug. Never something like this.

Castle feels desperately inadequate as she pulls away a little, looking up at him with a tear-streaked face. She retracts into herself a little, extracting herself from his embrace. He follows her, sliding fully onto the bed and leaning against the headboard. “Come here, Kate.” After a moment’s hesitation, she scoots close to him again and places her head on his shoulder. His arm wraps around her again, fingers smoothing her mussed hair. “It was just a dream,” he says. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Castle,” she says. A film of tears covers her beautiful brown eyes. “He hasn’t stopped hurting me.”

“I know.” Castle’s silent for a moment. “When did you take your last pain medication?”

“Afternoon.” Castle glances at the digital clock on her nightstand. 3:06 A.M.

"I’ll get you some, okay?”

“’kay.” He slips off the warm bed and walks out to the kitchen. He flicks the light on and is momentarily blinded. Castle fills a glass of water at the sink and finds the pills on the counter. He takes them back to her room, where she is seated in the same position as before and is staring off into space.

“Don’t think about it,” Castle says softly. He holds out the glass and she takes it, hand shaking so much that a little sloshes out onto the blankets. He pops off the lid of the bottle and tips out two white pills. She downs them one at a time and sets the water on the nightstand. “Try to go back to sleep now,” he tells her.

“I’m scared, Castle,” she whispers. She sounds like a child, so lost and broken. “I’m scared to go to sleep. I don’t want to die again.”

“You won’t,” he promises. “You’re safe here. I’ll keep you safe.” He gently pulls the covers back over her form and she rests her head on the pillow, looking up at him. Her eyes search his, whether for truth, intent, or just for comfort. He doesn’t know if she finds what she’s looking for in them, but she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Like in the hospital, his hand finds hers and he grasps it firmly.

He doesn’t know how long he watches her sleep. Definitely long enough that Beckett would declare him “creepy.” But there’s no trace of Beckett in the woman sleeping in front of him, nothing left of the detective he followed around for three years. And he’s not disappointed. He feels privileged that she would show him this side of her, a side he thinks not even Lanie has seen. Even though he likes Detective Beckett a lot, there’s something about this Kate that makes him love her a little bit more.

* * *

Everything’s fuzzy as she blinks once, twice. Sunlight streams in the window, forcing her eyes to adjust quickly to the brightness. All her muscles are stiff and sore, probably from clenching them throughout the night as she lived in the nightmares.

The nightmares. Last night. Castle.

He’s no longer in the room, and for that she’s thankful. She doesn’t know how she’ll face him this morning, not after the events of last night. His embrace had been comforting, but in those same moments her walls slipped and let him peer inside. He has glimpsed her terror, her weakness, and she doesn’t like that at all. Her skin prickles and she feels vulnerable, fragile as a piece of glass.

So she ignores the pain and stands up, beginning to piece herself back together. Doing what she does best. Kate hobbles to the floor-length mirror and stares herself down, willing herself to become whole once again. She changes her bandages and dresses casually. She steels herself mentally, hardening her resolve. Once she’s satisfied with her appearance and her outward strength, she steps out of her room and pads down the hallway. Each step is painful and her legs feel extra heavy to lift. What started as a dull ache in her chest quickly becomes a living hell, like someone has poured molten lava into her bullet wound, exacerbated by her increased respiration. She pauses on the edge of the couch with her hand working its way through her hair as she rests. The blankets and the pillow are neatly folded up in the corner, the only indication Castle slept here last night. When she’s regained some of her energy she continues on to the kitchen, entering and sitting down immediately.

“Good morning,” Castle says from the stove. She can feel him studying her, so she meets his eyes with as much seriousness and firmness as she can muster. “How are you?”

“Fine, Castle,” she says. Everything in her bearing and tone clearly says she doesn’t want to talk about it. Because talking about it would mean facing it. Facing the fact that she’s not everything she pretends to be.

"Okay,” he takes the hint. “I made eggs.” He plops a steaming plate of them in front of her and uses the tongs to add two sausages. “Do you want anything else?”

“No, this is great, thanks, Castle.” She smiles at him to show him that everything is all right. Inside, it’s anything but. Though her stomach is in knots, she forces herself to consume the eggs and sausages, tensing when Castle sits down across from her.

“Newspaper?” he offers. He taps the front cover.

“No,” she replies with a shake of her head. “How’s _Heat Rises_ coming along?”

“It’s not,” Castle says ruefully. “I discovered last night that I left an outline of chapters sixteen and seventeen at the loft, in my notebook.” He checks his phone. “And Gina wants the manuscript in...oh, great, ten days.”

“You should go get it, Castle. Gina’s not the kind of woman you want to keep waiting.” Gina’s name brings up a host of bitter and forlorn feelings in Kate, remembering all too well the events of the previous summer. She had almost told Castle she’d go to the Hamptons with him, but by the time she worked up her courage—she even broke up with Tom Demming beforehand—he had found company in Gina, his publisher.

“Don’t I know it, I was married to her.” Castle looks uncertainly at Kate. “Are you sure?”

“It’s only a thirty-five minute trip there and back,” she says. “I’ll be fine.” He still looks unconvinced, so she adds, “I could use some alone time, anyways.”

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. “You’re sure?”

She gives him a look. “Just get going, Castle. And bring back some coffee on the way.”

“Decaf, right?”

“Unfortunately.” She nods to him. “The spare key’s by the fridge. Keep it.” He looks at her strangely, reading more into her words than she put into the practical request. Well, maybe she did mean more by it. She doesn’t even know anymore.

“Okay. I’ll do the dishes when I get back. See you in a little bit!” He sets both their empty plates in the sink and walks towards the door. He pauses as he opens it. “Don’t forget to take your pain medicine.”

Kate sighs. “I won’t.”

He leaves, closing the door with a slight slam that makes her jump out of her skin. For a moment the world slides away and she’s lying on her back in the grass again, staring up at Castle with her life seeping out of her chest. Then she blinks and she’s back in her apartment, trembling slightly. This must be what Dr. Burke referred to as a flashback.

Kate slowly stands from her seat and makes her way to the pain meds. She then collapses on the couch with them and a glass of water. They do make it easier to get through the day, because she’s noticed that when she’s in pain she’s more on edge. When she’s on edge, more stuff startles her. And apparently, being startled can cause flashbacks. Yet another glorious part of recovery she didn’t anticipate.

Reaching out her arm to get a book from the shelf makes her chest protest loudly, but she persists and settles down with _In a Hail of Bullets_ , Castle’s first novel. She hadn’t discovered it until the first Derrick Storm came out, when she had gone on a Richard-Castle rampage and bought all of his works in one week. It’s by far not his best novel—and that’s why she wants to read it again. It’s a reminder that not everyone’s perfect—and so it’s okay for her to not be too. She knows she struggles with that sometimes, and especially right now she needs to come to terms with it or it will tear her apart. As she turns to page two, the window catches her eye, the next building and a few beyond visible through it. A glint of sunlight reflects off the glass, and all of a sudden she doesn’t feel safe anymore. Anyone could look in and see her. Shoot her.

She stands shakily and pulls the curtains over the window, blocking out the light. For a moment she’s satisfied, but then she notices the other two windows in the room. Hand pressed to her stomach to try to assuage the pain mounting in her chest from so much movement, she crosses into the kitchen to pull the blinds in there as well. It’s not enough until she has shuttered every one in the apartment, and even then she feels watched. Stalked. Hunted.

* * *

Castle steps out of the cab when he reaches his apartment building, wondering who he’ll find inside. Even if Alexis or his mother is there, he doesn’t have much time to stop and chat. Leaving Kate all alone bothers him, though he knows it’s an irrational paranoia. She’s a grown woman, a cop no less, and perfectly capable of spending an hour or so alone.

She doesn’t want to talk about last night, and he’s not surprised. A little disappointed, perhaps, but not surprised. It fits well with her personality. He shouldn’t have hoped that that one event would open her up to him. It’ll take time, and he accepts that.

He slides his key into the lock and turns it, opening the door. An unwelcome sight greets him, and he just stands there for a second taking it in. Then he knocks rather loudly on the door and the two jump apart wearing identical startled expressions.

“Hello, Ashley,” he says.

“H-Hi, Mr. Castle, sir,” Ashley stammers, scooting a little further away from Alexis. Castle’s feelings are a jumble, amusement mixed with fatherly indignation, but mostly indignation.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” Alexis asks, jumping up. She self-consciously smoothes down the front of her dress and runs a hand through her hair. Her face is reddening with embarrassment.

“I was just picking up a notebook, but if you’re _busy_ , I can come back later,” Castle says, still staring at Ashley. He says it in a way that leaves only one answer.

“No, uh, not—not busy, at all, sir,” Ashley says, swallowing hard. “We were just, uh—“

“Kissing?” Castle suggests.

“But nothing—nothing more,” Ashley promises. His eyes keep darting around, as if to check there’s no antique gun in the vicinity. Good, he’s scarred the boy.

Castle stares him down for a second more, then relents. “I think I can trust you with Alexis...” he crosses into his office and picks up his little black notebook. When he comes back out, they’re both still watching him with wide eyes. “But don’t make me regret that decision. Remember—I work with cops.”

“Yes, Mr. Castle. I respect Alexis. And you. I would never do anything to hurt her.”

Castle smiles, opening the door. “I’m glad we understand each other.” He steps out and closes the door behind him. He places his hands on his knees and breathes heavily. The amount of tension in that room—though, granted, most given off by him—had been terrifying. He knows he can trust Alexis, and probably Ashley too, but the image of them making out on his couch is still one he cannot abide. And yet, it’s burned into his mind.

After a moment more, he exits the building and hails a taxi back to Kate’s apartment, making a brief coffee stop along the way. He unlocks the door with the new key on his keychain— _his_ key—and lets himself in. The apartment is dark, and he notices all the windows have the curtains pulled across them. “I’m back,” he calls into the gloom. “Sorry it took me so long; Alexis and Ashley were making out on the couch.” His explanation rings too loud in the space in front of him. “Kate?”

There’s no response. It takes him only a minute to flick on the lights and search each room for her. And then it’s clear.

She’s gone.


	14. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle and their friends at the 12th Precinct try to figure out what happened to Beckett.

Castle’s heart pounds in his ears. How can she be gone? His hand fumbles in his jacket for his phone, calling hers. There’s a ringing from her bedroom, and he finds it plugged into the wall next to the nightstand. Where did she go? Why would she go without taking her phone, without leaving a note, without telling him?

He sets the coffee down on the dining room table, leaving it steaming hot and all but forgotten. He dials Lanie and listens to it ring, one, two, three times before she finally picks up. “What is it, writer-boy? I’m right in the middle of an autopsy.”

“Lanie, something’s wrong. I only left for an hour to pick up an outline from my loft and when I came back the apartment was dark and she was gone.” His words are a jumble, panic rising.

“Whoa, Castle, slow down: what happened?”

“Kate. Kate’s gone,” he says.

There’s silence for a moment. “That can’t be right…she only left the hospital yesterday! She can’t have gotten that far, not in her condition.”

“With the taxi system, she could be anywhere in the city!”

“You’re right. Castle, you don’t think they _took_ her, do you?”

“What?” The thought hadn’t even occurred to him.

“Whoever shot her at the funeral didn’t manage to finish the job. You don’t think...”

“No,” Castle says slowly. “There’s no sign of a struggle, the door’s intact...” The man on the phone said they would leave her alone. But Lanie doesn’t know about him.

“Is there a security camera in Kate’s building?” Lanie asks. She seems to have gotten over her panic and is directing him calmly, something he desperately needs right now. Too many scenarios are running through his head, and none of them end well.

“Um, yeah, I think so, but only in the elevator.”

“Then call Javi. Make sure she didn’t go to him or Ryan, and then ask him to look at the footage. If he can’t get footage from that camera, he can look at the traffic cam outside her building. Do you have any idea why she would run away? Where she went will depend on why she ran.”

“I don’t know,” Castle replies, running his hand through his hair and looking desperately around as if the apartment can provide the answers he seeks. He’s so scared it threatens to choke him. “I don’t know. Something here could have spooked her, or…or it could be me.”

“Castle, why would she run away from _you_?”

“She had a breakdown, last night, and I comforted her. Then this morning she didn’t want to talk about it, like she was defensive. Kate runs away when people get too close. Maybe I—I got too close.”

“Castle, listen to me: this is not your fault. Call Javi and Ryan. Call Jim too; make sure she didn’t show up at her dad’s place. I’m going to check a few of our favorite cafés before meeting you at the Twelfth.”

“Okay,” Castle agrees. His hand is shaking as he dials the precinct. “Esposito.”

“It’s Castle. Kate’s gone.”

“What do you mean, ‘gone’?” Esposito’s voice is low, quiet.

“She’s not at her apartment. I only left for an hour, I didn’t—“

“Castle, you lost her? She’s badly injured, how do you lose someone like that?”

Castle is beating himself up over this, and Esposito’s piling on doesn’t make much of a difference. All he cares about is finding her. “Lanie said you could check traffic cams outside her building.”

“Yeah, I’m on it,” Esposito says. “Get down here as soon as possible.”

“Okay,” Castle says, and hangs up. He scribbles a note to Kate—CALL ME, underlined a few times for good measure—and sticks it to her pill bottle. Then he sprints outside and hails a taxi, telling the driver to take him to the Twelfth as fast as possible, traffic lights be damned. The whole ride he’s searching his mind for possible locations she could have fled to, where she could have gone. By the time he arrives, Lanie and Esposito are already assembled, both looking positively worried. “Where’s Ryan?” Castle asks.

“He’s coming,” Esposito answers quickly. “He had taken the day off and was spending it planning the wedding with Jenny.”

Castle nods. “Do you have the footage?”

“Yeah,” Esposito pulls it up on his computer. “We’ve been watching it in 4x for a couple minutes now, but nothing yet.” The three of them huddle around the monitor. People speed walk in and out of sight on the sidewalk and a bald man enters Kate’s building, but still no one comes out. The door opens again from the inside and a woman with long hair steps onto the sidewalk, moving slowly as if each step is painful. “That’s her,” Castle exclaims.

“What the hell are you doing, Beckett?” Esposito mutters. “Look, she’s getting into that taxi.”

“Can you track it using the cameras?”

“Yeah, based on the plate and its direction of travel...” Esposito pulls up another three screens of footage, playing them one after the other. Castle’s heart pounds with anticipation. Their eyes are glued to the cab, following its movements from window to window. All of a sudden it’s gone.

“Where did it go?” Castle asks, but neither Esposito not Lanie has an answer for him. Esposito rewinds the final frames and they spot the taxi turn into an underground parking garage. It never comes back out, but another few cars do.

“Bro, why would she go there?” Esposito asks.

“Or why would she switch taxis?” Lanie says.

Ryan runs up to them. “I got here as fast as I could. Any news?” Jenny trails along behind him, looking just as worried as he does. With all of their faces, one would think somebody had died. The thought is not comforting to Castle.

“No,” he says. “When I went back to the apartment, she was just gone. Then I came straight here.”  
“Did you check the closets?” Ryan asks. “When I was a kid that was always the first place I would hide.”

“Yes, of course I did,” Castle replies impatiently. “But we know she definitely left the apartment, we see her on the traffic cam. Her cab enters a parking garage and never comes back out again.”

“Javi, can you track the other cab?” Lanie asks.

“No, the camera on the exit isn’t good enough for me to make out the plates,” Esposito answers. “We have no idea where she went.”

“Okay,” Castle says, breathing heavily. “Okay. Jenny, can you check your and Ryan’s apartment?”

“Of course,” she nods.

Castle doesn’t even pause, mind racing a mile a minute. “Ryan, you check that parking garage and then Jim’s place, in case she went back there. If she was at his job, Jim would have called. Esposito, stay here in case she comes to the precinct. It’s familiar; she might be running to here. Lanie, check your apartment and then go back to the morgue in case she was seeking you out. Alexis is at mine right now, so I’ll check the coffee place and dial up a few of her friends. What was her name? Madison, Madison Queller. I’ll start with her and then try some of the other recently used contacts on her phone.”

“Don’t you think we should tell Gates?” Ryan looks uncertain.

“Do what you have to do,” Castle replies, practically sprinting out of the precinct. He hails a cab and directs the driver to their favorite coffee place.

The proprietor greets him with a handshake, saying, “Great to see you, Rick! Kind of late for your usual order, though, isn’t it? Plus you already came in here once today. Are you coming off another all-night writing session and need a caffeine boost?”

“Sorry, Marty, I’m not here to buy this time,” Castle answers, pulling out his phone. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. Have you seen her?” He holds out a picture of Kate on his phone and the shop owner scratches his head. “No, sorry, Rick, I can’t say that I have. But I only got here a few minutes ago. Allen?” He calls to the man behind the counter. “Allen, have you seen this woman come in here today?” Castle shows him the phone.

“Nope,” says Allen after studying it for a few seconds. “I’ve seen her in here before though, although not in a long while. Seemed nice. Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m sure she’ll turn up,” Castle says, not believing his own words. “Thanks Marty. Give me a call if you see her.”

“Will do,” Marty smiles. Castle exits the cafe and returns to the taxi he left waiting out front.

When he arrives back at Kate’s apartment, it’s exactly like he left it before. As he enters, he calls out in vain, “Kate? Are you there?” but again there’s no answer. He scoops up her phone from her bedroom and slides to unlock. It wants a password.

“Lanie, have you made any progress?” he calls her from his own cell phone.

“Sorry, Castle, she’s not at my place.”

“Well, in order to get into her phone, I need her passcode. Would you know it?”

“You spent three years observing her work and you don’t know her passcode? I thought personal boundaries weren’t much of thing with you.”

“Lanie!”

“Right, sorry. One-nine-nine-nine.”

“The year of her mother’s murder,” Castle says as he types it in. Icons flow onto the screen of Kate’s phone. “Thanks, Lanie.”

“Good luck,” she hangs up. Castle begins to sift through Kate’s contacts and calls a few of them that look promising, but none have seen her. When he reaches Madison, he calls from his own phone.

“Hey, Madison, it’s Rick Castle.”

There’s a giggle on the other end. “Hey, Rick! I haven’t heard from you in a while!” “Yeah, but I uh, I’m calling about Beckett.”

“KBecks? Is she okay?”

“Well, not exactly. She’s missing. Have you seen her? Has she come by your apartment or—or the restaurant?”

“Oh my God! No, I haven’t seen her in a couple weeks. Q3 isn’t even open today; she’s not here. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just stay on the lookout,” Castle hangs up. Fear and panic are rising in him again; he has exhausted all his avenues. She’s been missing at least two hours, more than enough time to get her in a heap of trouble as a cop without a gun. She could be lost. She could be collapsed on the sidewalk. She could be gunned down by a vindictive crime boss freshly out of prison. All of these stories and more he has seen coating the murder boards in the precinct, and it is unthinkable that she could join their number. But he can’t dwell on that. He promises himself he’ll never stop searching for her. When he calls them, neither Ryan nor Esposito have anything but ashen voices for him.

“She definitely switched taxis in that parking garage,” Ryan tells him. It does nothing to comfort him, just keeps their search expanded to all of New York City. She could be anywhere, lost, hurt, frightened, confused... Disoriented would be an accurate frame of mind for her right now, he thinks. She must have been really out of it to leave like that.

Although…changing taxis in an old parking garage required a definite presence of mind. The only reason for her to do that is…to escape someone? To not be followed? Who is she trying to keep off her trail?

The man on the phone said she’d be safe. But Kate doesn’t know that. It’s the deadly secret Castle, Esposito, and Ryan swore to keep from her.

Castle swallows hard. He has to do it. He has to call Jim. The father’s wrath will be terrible, or maybe it will just be a quiet, disappointed rage. Either way, it will be unbearable. Castle slowly searches down the list of contacts in his phone, adrenaline surging through his muscles in anticipation. All of a sudden, a call replaces his contact list, the green “Answer” button glowing invitingly. Castle does. “Castle.”

“Mr. Castle, this is Joel from the Old Haunt. I think we may have had a break-in.” A break-in? That can’t be right. “What’s missing?”

“Well, we’re not sure. All the cash in the register is still there, but someone’s been moving stuff down in the basement. We’d like you to come down and assess.”

Kate. It has to be her. “I’m on my way,” Castle says, leaping for the door. “Don’t go down there; leave everything the way it is until I arrive.” If it’s truly a robbery, then he hasn’t spent three years working with the NYPD to let his own employees mess with a crime scene. If it’s Kate, then he doesn’t want any unfamiliar faces to spook her. He still doesn’t know what made her run in the first place.

“Got it.”

Castle stuffs his phone back in his pocket. When he arrives at the Old Haunt, he sprints up the steps and bursts in the door. There are a few customers seated in the booths, but in the middle of afternoon the bar is mostly empty. Soft music emanates from the piano, manned in the daytime by a balding man with graceful fingers.

Joel spots him immediately. “Mr. Castle, good, you’re here.” He leads him to the bar, where another man is wiping it down with a rag, looking haggard. Castle recognizes him as a new hire that he approved sometime last month. “This is Damien Sanders, the bartender on duty. He’s the one that reported it.”

“What did you see?” Castle asks. His years at Beckett’s side and in the interrogation room with her have given him edge in this. He is an expert at getting precise information. He learned from the best.

“I went down to log some paperwork,” the man says, stuffing the rag under the counter. “When I went down, it was loud because the dishwasher was still running above so I didn’t hear anything. But then I noticed the bookshelf was shifted slightly, like someone had tried to get behind it and not put it back properly. We don’t know what’s back there, but we’re assuming it’s some kind of safe.”

“Okay, stay here,” Castle orders. “I’m going to go check it out.”

Joel looks uncomfortable. “Shouldn’t we call the police or something?” Castle ignores the question. He’s hoping so hard she’s down there that his head might explode from the strain.

Castle walks expertly to the corner of the bar and pulls out the secret lever, twisting it until there’s a faint click and the trap door opens upward. His first step into the basement is hesitant, as are all the ones that follow. To come here…he can’t imagine what state of mind she must be in right now. He doesn’t want to startle her, although his heart is pounding louder than the noise of any step he could take. “Kate?” he whispers her name. There’s no answer, and he didn’t expect one.

It takes Castle a minute to see what Sanders had meant about the bookshelf, which in reality only holds a few books and numerous metalworks. There’s a large crack between the wall and the edge of the shelves. “How did she...?” he murmurs. He strains against the bookshelf, shunting it sideways until the space is just wide enough to let him through. He takes out his phone and uses it as a flashlight, illuminating the secret Prohibition-era passageway and the cobwebs that hang above it. As always, the corridor has a dank, wet wood smell and clogs his nostrils with dust.

He swings open the next door with one hand, stepping gingerly by as to not touch the antique weapon pinned to the other side. He reminisces as he continues on that she had once described this place as damp, cramped, dark, and full of rat pee—she must really be running from something to take refuge down here. Finally he reaches the pile of red bricks that marks the end of the tunnel as they’ve explored it and flicks on the lights. The cavern flares to life amid the drip, drip of unseen water, a burst of color his eyes were unprepared for.

And there, right past the webbed chandelier—Kate. His mind floods with relief at the same time his heart overflows with love. She looks so peaceful there, curled up in a pile of burlap sacks. He kneels next to her, paying no heed to the layer of dirt caking onto his pants. Her eyes are closed and she’s breathing softly, peacefully, wearing an almost contented expression in her sleep. She must have been exhausted when she arrived, created herself a cocoon of cloth, and fallen asleep. Seeing her now, like this, suddenly makes perfect sense in Castle’s head. He’s found the story.

It wasn’t him she was running from after all. She never would have come here—to an establishment he _owned_ —if trying to escape him. She fled to it because it was familiar, and…and secret. Another bout of realization washes over him. That’s why the curtains were drawn in the apartment. That’s why she left her phone, why she switched taxis where no cameras could track her. Her strength, even in her condition, amazes him: even sliding that bookshelf a few inches was incredibly taxing. She must have been in a true adrenaline-fueled panic.

She thought she was in danger. She thought the shooter was coming back to get her, and didn’t feel safe in her own home. So Kate used all of her cop knowledge to avoid detection. This morning, when she had said she was fine…she had lied to his face. But that doesn’t matter now. She’s here; she’s safe. And that’s enough.

He tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, careful not to disturb her. But he cannot keep from stroking it softly, waiting for her to wake up. Waiting for them to go home, together.


	15. Little House in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beckett wakes up, and she and Castle leave the city behind.

Kate stirs beneath his hand and Castle retracts it, already missing the softness of her hair and the comforting gesture. Her expression is languid until she realizes he’s there and she reaches for the gun on her hip. Except there isn’t one, not even a holster, and the sudden movement leaves her gasping in pain.

“Kate! Kate, it’s me. It’s okay,” Castle says, touching her shoulder. She collapses back onto the burlap sacks, unmoving with her hair obscuring her face. Castle tries to as gentle as he can with both his touch and voice. “Kate, are you okay? What are you doing here?” She doesn’t answer. “Kate…” he touches her again and she doesn’t flinch away, brushing the hair over her shoulder in smooth strokes. Her eyes are squeezed shut, as if replaying some horrific event over and over in her head. He goes off the assumption that she’s not answering him because she’s trapped in her own mind, the same state of mind that caused her to run here in the first place.

* * *

41319\. 41319. 413… She can scarcely remember the number any more, much less what it stands for. All she can see in front of her is a great white light, blinding and all-encompassing. The ground she’s lying on seems to buck and sway of its own accord, and a confused jumble of voices follows her everywhere, but she cannot see the speakers. They are hidden from her.

Her body is shunted sideways, pain exploding in her chest and slicing across her side. She can feel _it_ fast approaching, a cold stealing across her muscles that turns her bones to ice.

Suddenly the scene shifts and everything’s black. A rough cloth material digs into her hands and dust clogs her nose. There’s a warm pressure on her back, and she lifts herself up to find herself face to face with Castle. What’s he doing here? Where is she?

Then a split second later it all comes rushing back, and the adrenaline she feels as well as the utter exhaustion of her muscles makes complete sense. As the agony abates, she slowly sits up, facing him but still looking inward. The last remnants of terrifying, vivid imagery still haunt her. When finally she is herself again and fully locked in the present, she starts thinking about what to say. His questions are convoluted, impossible for her muddled mind to answer, mostly because she doesn’t quite understand herself. Every action she took made sense in that panicked state, but now that she’s out of it she doesn’t know quite what she was thinking. Why she came to the Old Haunt is another impossibly difficult question. It just…felt right. All of the big questions—all of the ones Castle wants answers to—are difficult.

But she can’t even come up with a suitable question of her own, because all that come to mind are large and hairy and involve even more thinking when she gets a response. She knows it’s been a long time since she left her apartment based on her parched tongue, and she also knows that Esposito, Ryan, and Lanie would be at the top of his call list if she went missing. She doesn’t want to think about what she put her team or her best friend through, because she can’t afford to be wracked with guilt right now. She’s holding together so feebly as it is.

And then there’s her dad. He presents even more of an issue than the other three, and she sincerely hopes Castle didn’t apprise him of the situation. Her dad loves her dearly, and he would drop everything in a heartbeat—his friends, his job, his _life_ —to be there for her if she needed him. Running away, she thinks, would definitely qualify. She adds her father to the list of things she wants to know but doesn’t want to deal with the answer.

She’s been sitting there silent for well over two minutes and come up with absolutely nothing to say or ask. Everything is too big, too important, too complicated with too many ramifications. Once she _asks_ , she’ll have to start _doing_ , and she’s not ready to do much of anything yet. So the advice of Dr. Burke comes to mind: if you feel overwhelmed, start with something simple and work from there.

“Did you find your outline?” The words just seem to slip out of Kate’s mouth without her permission.

Castle stares at her for a second and then smiles as if mildly amused. “Really? We’re sitting up to our ears in filth in the secret bowels of a Prohibition-era bar and after everything that’s happened, you ask about my outline?” His tone is light and teasing, but Kate still wants an answer. “Yeah, yeah, I found it. Brought it back to your apartment. Why?”

The long version involving complex and muddled emotions is too, well, long, so she goes with a short, but still true, reply: “I’m looking forward to reading _Heat Rises_.” A shadow crosses his face momentarily, so quick that she might have imagined it. But she’s a Detective, and she’s learned to trust her eyes not to play tricks on her. There definitely was a shadow. What it meant, she has no idea, but it was there. Briefly. “How’d you find me?”

“Observant bartender upstairs,” Castle replies. The two sit in silence for another minute, Castle’s gaze scrutinizing and her own focused on the unbuttoned button at the top of his shirt. Finally Castle seems tired of waiting.

“Kate, are you okay?” She shrugs in answer, yet another movement at which her chest protests. “Are you…do you want to go home?”

She shakes her head like a small child. “My apartment isn’t safe.”

Castle doesn’t even argue this like she expects him to, just says, “Then where is safe? I’ll take you anywhere, Kate, anywhere you want to go. My apartment, your dad’s place, the Hamptons, Paris…”

She considers this. “My dad has a cabin the woods north of here. It’s secluded, out of the way.” “You want to go there?”

She bites her lower lip, nodding. “The noises…the noises of the city startle me. Sirens, car horns, doors slamming…”

Castle smiles reassuringly. “Then that’s where we’ll go.” He holds out his hand to her and she takes it, rising slowly to her feet. He supports her on her shaky legs as they make their way back up the stairs and into the main bar. Castle leaves her in a booth nearby to exchange a few words with the bartender, but she notices he keeps a close eye on her. Kate tries not to let it bother her. She’d like to promise him that it will never happen again, but she’s not sure herself. In this lucid state, the idea seems preposterous and out-of-the-question, but she definitely wasn’t in her right mind when she fled the apartment. There’s nothing she can do to guard against that state of mind again. She hates feeling so out of control, so she gazes at the lacquered wood table and concentrates on her breathing until Castle returns. In and out. In and out.

A tap on her shoulder lets her know that it’s time to go. She stands willingly, waits patiently for a taxi, and sits quietly the whole way home. She sinks into the couch upon arrival, running one hand tiredly through her hair.

“What’s this?” Castle asks. He’s kneeling down at the other side of the room next to a dark gray metal box. He hooks his fingers around the door and it swings open readily.

“Close the safe, Castle,” she says coldly, but not before he removes a gun similar to her piece from the Twelfth. At the sight her heartbeat triples and her legs pull up to her chest. She shields her face with her arm, curling up into a ball.

He hurriedly places the handgun back into the safe, shutting and locking it. “Kate, okay, the gun’s gone.” She hesitantly uncurls, taking in shuddering breaths. “Why do you have a gun? I thought the precinct was keeping yours until you’re back on duty.”

“That’s mine,” she says. “My personal one.”

“How long have you had it?”

“Since the Scott Dunn case.”

Recognition flares in his eyes. “Nothing like near death by a psychopath bomber who’s got you confused with your literary alter-ego to make you paranoid.” He looks at the safe again. “Why was it open?”

“I tried to take it with me, before I left. But I couldn’t touch it.” She pauses, letting that sink in. “I couldn’t touch it, Castle. How am I supposed to be a cop when I can’t shoot a gun?”

“Kate, no one’s expecting you to be a cop right now,” Castle says. He sits on the other end of the couch facing her. “You will go back to your job, and you’ll be as good as ever. But not for a little while. You were shot; cut yourself some slack.” She’s quiet, digesting this. “Oh—speaking of cops, I’d better call Esposito.”

“Espo?” That snaps her back to attention.

“Yeah. When you went missing, I called Esposito, Ryan, and Lanie to see if any of them knew where you were.”

“Did you…did you call my dad?”

Castle shakes his head and she’s immensely relieved. “They’ll be worried though.” He dials up one of them and puts it on speakerphone.

“Esposito.”

“Hey, it’s Castle. I found her.”

“Thank God, Ryan and I were just about to put out an APB.” Castle exchanges a worried glance with Kate. She’s glad he called just then, or she’d have a lot more explaining to do.

“May I speak with her?” Lanie’s voice comes over the phone. Kate’s eyes widen and she shakes her head emphatically no.

Castle’s brow creases. “Sorry, Lanie, she’s sleeping right now.”

Her friend sounds disappointed. “Oh, okay. Tell her to give me a call when she wakes up.”

“Will do,” says Castle uneasily.

“Where did you find her?” Esposito asks.

“At the Old Haunt,” Castle says, “in the tunnels. I guess it was the only place she could find that felt safe. She slept more peacefully there than she ever does her, for hours straight. I didn’t want to wake her up.”

“Wait a second, bro,” says Espo. “You were watching her sleep for hours? And you didn’t think to call? We were worried too, man!”

“Writer-boy, _you’ve got some nerve_ ,” Lanie adds in her best pissed-off voice. Kate wants to warn Castle to defuse the situation before she gets into her stride but she can’t without being heard on the call. She feebly motions over her throat for him to stop. Castle. Stop. Stop talking. Stop talking! Unfortunately, Castle doesn’t seem to be very adept at the nonverbal cues. Maybe because he spends too much time opening and closing his mouth.

“Sorry guys, I just didn’t think—“

“Hell yeah, you didn’t think! You didn’t think about any of us! We’re her friends too, Castle, and we’ve been worried sick about her!” Kate can’t take the yelling anymore; it’s too much for her to handle right now and dredges up too many emotions. She slides off the couch and into the kitchen in search of pain medication. Which she’s a dose behind on today already.

After downing the pills, she can still hear Castle’s indignant voice and Lanie’s screeching from the other room, so she heads to hers and shuts the door. Even that doesn’t block the noise out, not even when she insulates her head with pillows. After a few minutes she can’t hear anyone but Castle and can only assume he took it off speakerphone to not upset Kate further. Well, too late. She’s already upset.

* * *

Castle shoves his phone back into his pocket, a mixture of anger and guilt coursing through him. He gives himself a few seconds to calm down and then stands up. He checks the kitchen first for her and then sees her closed bedroom door. He knocks on it softly and, when there’s no response, opens it. She’s asleep again, brown hair framing her head like a silky mane. Her chest rises and falls softly.

He leaves her be but keeps the door open so he can better hear if something goes wrong. Then he walks to the closet and fetches a suitcase, wondering briefly why she has two. His writer’s mind immediately begins weaving a story, something about spending a semester in Kiev in college. His is sitting in the corner of the room, but he still has to repack it to fit everything. He wonders if this cabin in the woods has a laundry machine.

“Hey, Jim, it’s Rick,” he says, holding the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Rick. I was just about to call and check up on Katie. Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, no, everything’s fine,” Castle replies evasively. “Kate had the idea to move into the cabin in the woods for a little while. Would that be okay?”

“Sure.” There’s a pause in which neither of them speaks. “Why?”

“We think getting away from the city, where it happened, would help her recovery. She’s…” Castle’s finding it difficult to explain this without making it sound too awful. “She’s having some trouble sleeping, so maybe getting away from it all into the peace and quiet would help.”

“I understand,” Jim says. “Give me an hour, and I’ll be right over with the keys. If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to her before you leave.”

“Yeah, of course,” Castle agrees. “That’ll give me time while you’re here to pick up my car from the loft. See you in an hour.”

“Bye.”

Castle sighs and leans against the pillows of the couch. Then he drags himself up and into Kate’s room. He pauses a minute in the threshold, trying to decide whether it’s better to let her sleep or let her prepare for her father’s impending visit.

“Kate.” He doesn’t shake her for fear of hurting her, but her expression of terror as she wakes clenches his heart.

“Castle,” she runs her hand groggily through her hair and glances at the window. “It’s nighttime. What is it?”

“It’s only nine o’clock. Your dad will be here in about fifty minutes.”

“You told him?” All of a sudden her voice is laced with fear.

“No, just about moving to the cabin in the woods.”

“Oh,” she relaxes.

“Anyway, he’s coming over here to drop off the keys and chat with you a bit. I thought you might want some time to…compose yourself a little.”

She nods. “Thanks, Castle.”

“We also should pack your suitcase for the cabin.” She moves to get up and he stills her with a hand on her shoulder. “No, I’ll do it. Keep resting; it’s going to be a long ride.”

Castle opens the suitcase at the foot of her bed and pulls out her bottom drawer. “Socks?”

“Yeah.”

“Which ones?”

“They’re socks, Castle. They’re all the same. Just pick some.”

Castle shrugs. “Your wish is my command. But at my place, I own socks with designs on them.”

“Like what? Pink bunny socks?”

Castle smiles. “Actually, yes. Alexis gave them to me for my birthday.” At Kate’s look of confusion, he adds, “She was five.”

“Ah. Well, I don’t have pink bunny socks, so any will do.” Castle sighs and turns back to the drawer, eyes falling upon her collection of lingerie. After a moment’s hesitation, he closes that drawer and proceeds to the next. She had taken on a pained expression at the sight of them…he wonders just how badly she’ll scar from the bullet wound. Not that it matters to him, of course—she’s alive, and that’s all he can ask for. A scar can’t quench the love he feels for her. Nothing can.

He’ll let Kate pack those herself. They spend the next half hour selecting clothes for her to bring, which consisted mostly of him suggesting, her arguing exasperatedly, and eventually Kate just dictating his movements. “No, Castle, the other red one.”

“What other red one?”

“That one, right under your hand! No, back the other way…yes, that one.”

“I’m sorry,” Castle says, holding it up, “that is not red. Had you said ‘the burgundy’ I would have known what you were talking about.” He packs it into the suitcase, pressing down on the piles of clothes so that they’ll all fit. “There, done.” As if right on cue, there’s a knock on the door. “I’ll get it.”

“’Kay.” She pulls her legs into a more comfortable sitting position and blinks several times, trying to look as awake and alert as she can. Castle gives her a thumbs up before exiting the room and opening the door.

“Hey, Rick,” Jim greets him.

“Good to see you,” Castle says. “I won’t be gone long, just picking up my car from the loft.”

“That’s all right,” Jim says. “Katie’s in her bedroom?”

“Yeah,” Castle nods. Castle steps out and takes the elevator down to the entrance and then hails a cab to his place. He unlocks the door quietly, intending to inform Alexis of the change in plans but instead finds a note on the counter.

_Gram-_ __  
_Going to a late movie with Paige, Zed, and Ashley. Will be home around 11:30.   
_ _< 3 Alexis_

Castle resolves to call Alexis in the morning, seeing as he doesn’t have the time to wait for her to get home. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Jim—obviously Kate’s father has nothing but her best interests at heart—but after the events of today Castle doesn’t even want to let Kate out of his sight. It had been hard just letting her sleep in her room without sitting next to her, and probably would have been impossible had the window been any larger or the three-story drop outside any shorter. It doesn’t help that he can’t warn Jim about the danger of Kate disappearing.

Driving his own car back to the apartment is therapeutic and relaxing. Or, it is until some idiot screams across the red light and Castle has to slam on his brakes to avoid getting flattened. He’s not driving his Ferrari either. Most people, when given the choice would choose the Ferrari any day, but as a best-selling author with droves of fangirls—some of whom should be classified as psychotic—he appreciates the value of being nondescript.

After letting himself in—Castle doubts the novelty of having his own key to her apartment will ever wear off —he waits patiently in the kitchen for Jim and Kate to finish talking. When at last Jim emerges, he sits across from Castle and places the key to the cabin in the palm of his hand. Castle pockets it.

“I’m surprised she wanted to go back there.”

Castle senses a story coming on and automatically has his curiosity piqued. Long gone are the days when Beckett-stories were merely fodder for Nikki Heat. Now Castle just wants to hear them because they explain a little more of Kate Beckett. “Why?”

“Katie has scarcely been back to that cabin since Johanna’s death. The last time we went as a family was just a month before her murder, and the family tradition just seemed to stop there. I go back every Christmas, but I didn’t think Katie would want to go back there too often. Too many memories, I guess.” Castle nods his understanding. “Anyway, if she’s willing to go back there, then the city must be really getting to her.” Castle doesn’t trust himself to speak; there’s so much he could tell Jim if he opened his mouth. But that would be a violation of Kate’s trust, and there’s little he values more.

A small, nagging part of him reminds him of the major secret he’s keeping from her. But he crushes it down. There’s no need to bring up the mystery man on the phone just yet, not when returning to the precinct is so far off.

“Rick?”

Castle refocuses on the conversation at hand. “Sorry, I missed that last part.”

“Not caught up in any of those fantasies, are we?” Jim asks, a twinkle in his eyes. “I said, take care of her. And if you need anything—anything at all—don’t hesitate to call. Goodbye, Rick.”

“Bye,” says Castle. He watches Jim leave before heading to Kate’s room. “How’d your chat with your dad go?”

“Fine,” she answers with a half-hearted smile. “I finished packing. Can we go?”

“Ready when you are.” Castle holds out his hand and helps her up, sticking by her side until she’s stabilized on her feet. “Can you make it?”

“Of course.” She’s trying to sound determined but Castle can hear the uncertainty in her voice. So he stays close with the two suitcases to the door, in the elevator, and waits to load them in the trunk until she’s situated comfortably in the passenger seat. She’s not in any condition to run anywhere, so Castle chances a trip back to her apartment to check that everything is secure before they leave. He grabs an extra blanket for the ride and spots the lonesome cup of coffee on the table, long since cooled to cold. He dumps it in the sink and chucks the cup, trying not to think about the utter panic he had felt when placing it on the table.

Then he tucks the blanket in around her, gets a murmured, “Thanks, Castle,” for his efforts, and pulls away from the curb, her apartment, and his life in New York City.

Throughout the trip, Castle can tell Kate is trying to sleep, but the car bounces and rocks too much for her head to rest comfortably on the headrest. Neither of them speaks, however, and Castle focuses on driving safely in the dark. There’s a new moon tonight, and the road is especially hard to see. He’s using his phone for GPS, but the glowing screen messes with his vision as well.

It seems like Kate has just dozed off when Castle pulls into the parking space and turns the car off. The headlights wink out of existence, leaving them in absolute darkness save his phone. She sleepily exits the car, swaying on her feet, and Castle almost carries her into the cabin. Exploring will have to wait until tomorrow, he thinks. She points out both bedrooms to him.

“This one was mine,” she says, pointing with an unsteady hand. The use of past tense does not escape him. “And that one was my parents’. You can sleep in there.” Castle, who had been expecting the couch, nods, humbled by her letting him use her mother’s bed. Kate—for lack of a better word—totters into her bedroom and Castle pulls the covers up over her. Her eyes are half-closed as he says goodnight, but that doesn’t stop her from responding in kind.

Just as he’s about to leave, her eyes flick open. “Castle, I lied,” she says. He frowns slightly. “I remember. I remember everything.”

For a moment it feels like the world is coalescing around him, the air turning to liquid and choking him. What is she about to tell him? Why here, why now?

Her beautiful brown eyes gaze up into his. “I remember. And I’m glad you’re here. Thank you.”

His hand finds hers under the blankets. “Always, Kate. Always.”


	16. Redheads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexis finds out.

Castle awakes to bright light streaming in, birds chirping outside the window, and the scent of pine trees that permeates every inch of this place. Everything is right with the world; a delicious happiness has hold of him and wraps around him like a warm, fluffy blanket. Overhead pipes grumble and he hears water running. Kate must already be up and in the shower.

Kate. She is the reason for this absurd amount of happiness, more than he felt at either of his weddings. He doesn’t know what changed her mind, what made her finally reveal that she remembered his words from the shooting. Maybe she’s beginning to trust his love after all. Maybe she’s been working up the courage all along. Whatever the reason, he’s just glad she did.

Castle leaps out of bed and pulls on some comfortable clothes, determined to have some breakfast cooking by the time she gets out. He had just shoved most of the perishables into the fridge last night, and when he opens it now a package of bacon falls out onto the floor. Bacon, he thinks. There’s nothing better than the aroma of sizzling pig meat and grease in the morning. Jim bought it, so Kate must enjoy the stuff. Besides, it’s a crime to dislike bacon—she’d have to arrest herself.

He hunts for a pan and places it on the gas stove, lighting the flames with a flick of his wrist. The fire glows a cherry red before converting to blue as Castle waits for it to warm up. When it’s hot enough, he places strips of meat onto the pan, listening to them hiss delightedly.

“Is that bacon?” Kate emerges from her bedroom. She’s wearing minimal makeup and a thick sweater and sweats. The sweater has ‘Stanford’ emblazoned in red across the front. Her damp hair dangles messily over her shoulders and down her back.

“Know anything else that smells this good?” Kate smiles and sits at the little table. “No, Kate, I don’t think you’re appreciating this scent enough. Breathe it in deeply, through your nose, like it’s a heavy perfume.” She rolls her eyes and then does as he says.

She sneezes. “Ow. Ow, that hurt.” One hand clutches at her chest. “Sorry, I’ve still got dust in my nostrils from those tunnels.”

“Oh, never mind then,” Castle says apologetically. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She removes her head from her chest and reaches for the pill bottle, overturning it and downing one.

“Aren’t you supposed to take two in the morning?” Castle asks.

“The pain’s not that bad; I can do without,” she replies easily. Castle turns away and back to the stove, frowning slightly. The doctor prescribed powerful pain medication for a reason. He thinks she should take them as specified, but it’s not his place to interfere. He’s not quite sure _what_ his place is in this relationship.

He’s come a long way from being just her acquaintance, or just her favorite author. Although he was delighted to see all twenty-four of his books on the shelf in her living room. But no, back to the topic at hand. He was her partner at the precinct, and will be again in a few months, but right now, what is he? Had he asked himself this yesterday he would have said “friend” but now that she’s admitted she knows he loves her, what is he? What are they?

Castle barely manages to flip the bacon over before they burn. “You okay, Castle?” she asks. She’s staring at him with a bemused expression on her face.

“Fine. Why, did you say something?” He tries not to stare guiltily back at her. On second thought, he feels bad for trying to categorize their relationship. It was a big leap of faith for her to confide in him last night, and barely ten hours later he’s already rushing her into the next stage.

“I asked how you slept.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

“My dad used to complain about the chatter of the birds outside the window in that room.”

“Nope, I like them.”

She smiles slightly. “So did my mother.” She pauses, not seeming particularly distraught by the memory. Or maybe she’s just hiding it. “Have you discovered the boxes of comic books in the other room? Not as big a collection as you have, but I guarantee there are some in there you haven’t read before,” she says.

He serves the food, sitting down across from her. “Don’t tempt me. I’m supposed to be finishing _Heat Rises_ , remember? Gina wants it finished by the eleventh so she can dip it in a bucket of red ink.”

“How much editing _does_ go into your books, Castle? Are your words not as perfect hot off the press as when they hit the bookstores?” She’s teasing him, this little smirk on her face that makes him want to kiss it right off of her.

“I’ll show you when I get the manuscript back. You can barely see the text through the red scribbles.” She laughs softly and picks up a piece of bacon with her fingers, eating it daintily. He shovels eggs in his mouth to mask his staring. “Hey, you should come to the next book release. I think you’d like it.”

“Like what, watching you sign all those pathetic women’s chests? I think not.” She’s grinning now, eyes alight with good-natured ribbing.

“You’d be my sanity amidst the chaos. I mean, we met at the one for _Storm Fall_ ; you know what it’s like. I need familiar company other than my ex-wife—she’s _too_ familiar.”

“What about Alexis? She was there for that one, as I recall.”

“She’s decided she’s tired of being dragged along. Apparently it’s ‘scarring’ to see me flocked by so many young and beautiful women. And the old ones too. They’re like vultures.” He stops, narrowing his eyes at her over the breakfast plate in front of him.

“What?” she asks, truly nonplussed.

“Did I ever sign your chest?” He’s aware of the fact that the question comes out of nowhere and loves that it catches her completely off-guard. She chokes slightly on her water.

“If you can’t remember, then you’re never gonna know, Castle.” Her eyes play with his, taunting and daring him across the table.

“Come on,” he whines. “You know how many I sign at just one release?”

“Not winning you any points here.” She’s practically bubbling over with mirth, but he doesn’t know whether to take that as a confirmation or denial. He’s racked his brain numerous times to see if he can recall her, but if she did come she didn’t make much of an impression. None of them do, really.

Ooh, except for that one chick with the…no, never mind.

Castle refocuses quickly, trying to reel his mind back into the present. Don’t go there, not when Kate’s sitting right across from him. “So, um, what are you planning to do after breakfast?” he clears his throat. “Do you need me, or should I start writing?”

“I’m going to go through the exercises Dr. Sven showed me in physical therapy,” Kate answers. “Go ahead; go write. Don’t make me responsible for Gina getting on your case.”

Castle smiles. “Hey, without you, she wouldn’t have anything to get on me about.”

“You wrote twenty-two novels before our partnership; you would have had no trouble writing many more without me,” Kate says.

Castle tilts his head. “But no muse I ever found would have been as special as you.”

Her head whips up and then lowers, hair obscuring most of her face. “Thanks, Castle,” she says softly, a small smile playing across her lips. He’s confused by her sudden shyness. He’s said sweet things like that to her before, hasn’t he?

He feels the need to break the silence. “But anyways, off to write!” He takes her plate and his own and puts them in the sink, filling them with a little water so the food won’t stick. He enjoys cooking much better than he does cleaning, which suits him well at home. Besides baking, Alexis isn’t that into the culinary arts and Martha is just inept at it. Here, however, it’ll all just stack up if he doesn’t do it. Still…nothing wrong with a little healthy procrastination.

He fetches his laptop from his room and sits down on a comfy chair in the living room with it. Soon he’s tapping away at the keyboard, lost in the world of Nikki, Rook, Lauren, and Roach. When he looks up again, she’s lowering herself into splits on the floor of the living room. He can’t help but watch the flexibility of her body over the top of his laptop, eyes just peeking out over the screen.

She reaches forward, stretching her arms before switching legs. Perspiration wets just the edges of her face, and her eyes are half-closed. He wonders if that means it’s relaxing or that it’s painful.

His laptop lies forgotten on his lap, displaying its “You Should Be Writing.” message before fading completely to black. In one particularly convoluted pose, her shirt slips, revealing several inches of tanned, creamy skin. Thoroughly entranced, he jumps when she speaks. “Castle. You’re ogling.”

“I’m not ogling,” he says, trying but failing miserably to avert his eyes.

“Castle, stop ogling!”

“I’m not ogling.” She returns to a standing position and gives him a flat stare, hands on her hips. “Yeah, I’m ogling. It’s just, you’re right _there_ , and...”

“Relax, it doesn’t mean anything, Castle. It’s called _stretching_ , not a booty call.” She snaps her fingers. “Castle. Eyes. Computer.”

“Right,” he mutters, swiping his finger across the touchpad to wake it back up. She resumes her exercises, but he can’t help but sneak a peek ever once in a while. After all, she _is_ his muse. He’s just gathering inspiration.

Words just seem to flow into his fingers and onto the page for the next he-doesn’t-know-how-long, sweeping him away into the Zone. The Zone, where nothing else matters except the characters and plotline at hand.

“Castle.”

He’s just developed an acute pinkie cramp when another great idea pops into his brain, filling him with an excitement he’s never found in anything else except writing. The words are flying now, riddled with typos and missing spaces, but he dares not stop for fear of losing the words blazing in his mind.

“Castle.”

Nikki, what does Nikki do next? She calls Roach, right, no, maybe just Oach. Or is it Rales? He’s weighing the two options against one another, which fits better? Which would Beckett call?

“Ca-stle!” The sing-song voice jerks him out of it.

“What? Sorry, did you say something?” Castle’s groggy, like he’s just woken up from a deep sleep. Or, rather, a deep write.

“Your phone’s ringing,” Kate answers, gesturing to it with her water bottle. The look she’s giving him as he reaches for it makes him wonder exactly how long it’s been ringing.

Caller ID says it’s Alexis. He racks his brain—no, he never did tell her they were going out to the cabin. Time to break the news.

“Hey, pumpkin,” he greets her. “What’s up?”

“Dad, where are you?” She sounds half-angry, half-freaked out.

“I was just about to call you. Kate and I went to her dad’s cabin up north.” There’s dead silence on the other end. “Alexis?”

“How long have you been there?” Her voice is curt, sharp.

“Just arrived today,” Castle says. Technically, it’s not a lie. They arrived past midnight last night, so…

Unfortunately Alexis isn’t a big fan of technicalities. “Don’t lie to me. I talked to the doorman; he said you left last night. When were you going to tell me, Dad?”

“I…” Castle moves to defend himself.

“We _just_ talked about this the other day. I thought you understood that I didn’t like being left out of discussions that affect me! But it’s obvious now: you care more about Beckett than you do me.”

His mind is still playing catch-up. “Wait, how did you know we were gone? Did you go to her apartment?”

“Yeah, Ashley and I baked cookies this morning. We thought it would be a nice gesture.” She’s spitting the words at him now.

“Listen, sweetie, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. There were…complications…and we had to leave. You are right; it was wrong of me to not discuss this with you first.”

“No, Dad, you don’t get it. I gave you a second chance last time, a chance to show me that I meant just as much to you. But you went and put her before me again! You knew exactly how I would feel about it, and _that’s_ why you waited so long to call.”

“Please, Alexis, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s too late now. And don’t bother trying to come back to the city to _talk_ with me and _fix_ it, I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?” That throws him for a spin.

“Yeah, Mom came over this morning. Apparently she had caught a flight from LA to New York for a long- shot audition that didn’t go so well. She wanted me to come with her on a two week-long trip to Europe— London, Paris, Venice, the works. I told her no, there was too much going on here, but I called her back later and said I would. She even asked me to check it with you—I know, imagine that, right?—but I’m done checking things with you when you won’t do the same for me. She and I leave in an hour for the airport. Plane to Lisbon and then Paris.”

“Wait, Alexis, I didn’t mean—Meredith’s taking you to Europe?”

“Talk to you in two weeks, Dad. I’ve got to pack my stuff.” The line clicks dead. Castle removes it from his ear, staring at it helplessly. Kate watches from the sofa. He can’t believe how much the situation just exploded. Where had Martha been in all this?

He taps her number and listens to it dial and then go straight to voicemail. Perfect. “Mother, call me when you get this,” Castle growls.

Meredith? Hers goes straight to voicemail as well, with a lovely custom message waiting for him in her chirpy voice. “Hi! You’ve reached Meredith, but I’m currently with my wonderful daughter on a no-cell-phones girls’ day out! If this is about an audition, please leave a message. If you’re an unhappy ex-boyfriend, by all means don’t!”

Just hearing her high-pitched tones makes Castle’s blood boil. It’ll do no good to leave Meredith a voicemail now; she won’t see it until they’re at least in Lisbon and it’s too late by then. He hates playing the overprotective, jealous parent—and Meredith maneuvers him into that position all too often as it is. He also supposes he counts as an unhappy ex-boyfriend.

Great. One redhead immensely angry at him, one aggravatingly aloof and taking said redhead to Europe, and the third redhead AWOL and oblivious to it all. He makes a mental note to avoid redheads in any of his future relationships; they seem to be especially maddening.

Kate scoots across the couch to come up next to him. She hesitantly places a hand on his arm. “You okay, Castle?”

“Not really.”


	17. Miles to Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle and Beckett talk about Alexis, and Kate reveals some of her fears to Lanie.

Kate pauses, considering carefully what she’s doing. She really has no place in this matter, except maybe of that of a concerned friend. “What’s going on?” She keeps her voice gentle, pushing a little but slow enough that he can stop her whenever he wishes.

“Alexis,” he says slowly, as if still trying to wrap his head around it. “I didn’t tell her that we were leaving the city; I was going to today. But she found out, and now she’s angry with me. She thinks I put you before her. She…she left with Meredith for Lisbon!” The pained expression on his face causes her heart to clench as well. Kate can’t help but feel like this is somehow her fault, that somehow she’s responsible. But she knows Castle would never want her to take the blame.

“I’m sorry, Castle,” she says softly.

“I just don’t get it,” he says. He’s not really speaking to her; it’s more of a thinking-out-loud thing. “I mean, I screwed up, I know that. I would be surprised if she wasn’t mad. But...but _Meredith_? To _Europe_? Meredith practically redefined the meaning of child neglect!” Castle’s knuckles are white and clenched against the edge of the recliner. “And why would she jump to the conclusion that I’m putting you over her? It doesn’t make any sense!”

Apparently this isn’t a monologue after all. Kate frowns, thinking quickly before jumping in. “Think about it from her point of view, Castle. You’re right, Meredith left when Alexis was what, five? As great a parent as you are—“

“Not so great right now,” he mutters under his breath, but lets her continue.

“—as great a parent as you are, going from having a mom and a dad to just having a dad is going to be traumatic for any child.”

“Yeah,” Castle nods. “Alexis was heartbroken when Meredith left. She used to write letters all the time and give them to me to send, only for the first six months I didn’t even have an address. More than once I found her all dressed up sitting on the couch and waiting for Meredith to take her out for Saturday brunch like she always did.”

“Exactly. To Alexis, at least subconsciously, you’re acting like her.”

“Meredith left to be with her director,” Castle says slowly, putting the pieces together. “And I left...to be with you?” Kate chooses to ignore the romantics of that statement. “That’s nothing alike! I didn’t walk out on Alexis like Meredith did!”

“I’m not trying to blame you, Castle, I’m just trying to provide her perspective. I was a teenage girl once too. She doesn’t understand why you would just up and leave like that.”

“…because I didn’t tell her,” Castle says. “So, what do I do now? I can’t go flying off to Lisbon chasing after them.”

“She’s just trying to punish you. From what I’ve seen and heard about Meredith, Alexis will be sorry she went soon. I know Alexis acts like a mature adult a lot of the time, but you have to remember she’s still a teenage girl.”

“It’s hard,” says Castle. Kate waits for clarification before she responds. “It’s hard trying to keep Alexis straight in my head. She acts like an adult most of the time, parenting me as much as I parent her. But when I look at her, I still see the little girl who would spend hours with her hands plastered to the window of the candy shop. And I have to reconcile those two images with the fact that she’s my teenage daughter, getting older with every passing year and nearly all grown up.” While the candy shop memory had caused him to smile, with this last revelation his gloomy look returns. “I need some time to think,” he says. Kate understands completely. “You should call Lanie.” Her face pales and her blood turns to ice. It’s not that she _forgot_ that Lanie was awaiting her call, but she’d been avoiding the encounter. She doesn’t want to have to explain her erratic behavior.

Castle seems to sense her apprehension. “You’d better do it. We don’t need two people mad at us for not calling.”

Kate nods unhappily. “Where’s my cell phone?” She moves to get up, ignoring the pain radiating from her chest. The pain is constant now, and she can almost learn to ignore it. Almost.

He leaps to his feet, setting his laptop on the ground. “I’ll get it.” She opens her mouth to protest and then thinks better of it. Her muscles are already worn out for the day, and she has a sinking feeling she’ll be sore tomorrow. But every second with minimal pain and clear thinking is a gift, and she’ll take all of them she can get. It’s strange to think that just a month ago she was worried about interrogations and what she was going to wear that day. Now she’s just happy to not feel like screaming in pain and to be thinking straight, two things she took for granted so easily before.

He returns with her cell phone and then retreats to his room, whether to give her privacy or to give it to himself she doesn’t know. She stares at the phone for a second before dialing, readying herself. “Hey, it’s Kate.”

“Good to hear your voice, Kate,” Lanie says. “How’re you feeling, girl?”

“Better, Lanie, thanks,” she replies.

“Glad to hear it. Writer-boy was awful worried. We all were.”

“Sorry. It won’t happen again.” It seems wrong to make a promise she isn’t sure she can keep, but there’s really no other response she can give.

“Gave us a scare, but we’re just glad you’re safe. How are the nightmares?”

Kate shifts in her seat. “They’re still here. Not going away anytime soon I don’t think.”

“I’m sorry.” Uncomfortable pause. “How’s living with Castle going?”

Kate glances at the bedroom door. It remains firmly closed. “He’s great, Lanie. Really caring, sweet.”

“Aha,” Lanie says in a mischievous voice. “Javi owes me twenty bucks. He said writer-boy’d drive you crazy within three days running around your apartment like a chicken with its head cut off.”

“Actually, we’re not at the apartment,” Kate says in a strangled voice. “We moved to my dad’s cabin.”

“Wow, girl, you took him up there? I’m...I’m surprised.”

“Well, I needed to get out of the city,” she replies evasively.

“Kate, you’ve barely set foot in the place in twelve years. How’re you holding up? Does he even _know_?”

“No, he doesn’t. I’m fine, Lanie. I’m in my room and he’s in my parents’.” She can imagine Lanie’s raised eyebrows across the phone line. “Well, it seemed cruel to stick him on the couch. The memories in there, they won’t bother him.”

“As long as you’re sure, Kate. Is the cabin really better than the city?”

“Yeah, it is. Too many things remind me of the shooting back there. Here, everything’s different.”

“How much do you remember?” Lanie asks in a hushed voice.

Kate swallows. “Everything. The nightmares won’t let me forget a second of it. I remember...I remember standing at the podium, giving the speech. I remember the impact of the bullet and Castle knocking me down.” As she relates it to Lanie, it’s like she’s reliving it again. She clenches her fists and bites her lip to keep from screaming, and cuts the rest of her explanation short. “I remember the words he said to me, you, the ambulance ride, even the surgery. Even dying.” Fear-induced adrenaline makes her fingers feel like they’ve been dipped in icy water. This isn’t a flashback, and she’s grateful for that. Flashbacks are triggered; these are just frightening memories. Both cause trembling and fear, but only flashbacks can cause her to lose control. And she wants to stay in control.

“I’m sorry, Kate. Listen, are you and Castle...?”

“What?” Kate is shocked out of her reverie. “No! No, we’re not together. Why would you ask that?”

“Well girl, he did tell you he loved you at the funeral! Then you sent him away at the hospital, and now he’s back in your life even more than before. I had to ask.”

“No, we’re not,” Kate repeats, as much to herself as to Lanie. “His words at the funeral could have been desperation because I was dying. Do you think he wants to…be…together? I mean, I’m not sure—“

“Not sure! What is there to be not sure about? The guy’s been following you around like a puppy for three years.”

“He’s been following Detective Beckett. But I’m not her right now; I can’t be her. What if that’s who he thought he was in love with?”

“Come on, Kate. As someone who’s met both sides of you, there’s no way Castle could fall for one and not the other. The guy is _crazy_ about you! And despite your little act, you are crazy about him.” Kate makes an indignant noise in her throat and Lanie scoffs. “What, was that supposed to be some big secret?”

“Yes,” Kate says emphatically. Then she realizes she just admitted to it. “No.” She pauses. “Do you think he knows?”

“Current living arrangements aside, do you remember how he used to be? Girl on either arm? You really don’t see that guy too much anymore. Why do you think that is?” Kate bites her lower lip. She wants to believe her best friend, but she just…her doubts are immutable. “He’s waiting for _you_. He’s doing all of this for _you_.”

“But what does he expect, Lanie? Maybe I love him and maybe he loves me, but I’m not ready for that kind of relationship right now!”

“Why aren’t you ready, Kate?”

She pauses to think about it. “Because of all this. Because right now I just need to focus on getting my life back, getting back to the precinct. Because…”

“Because?”

“Because I’m not sure I’m capable of that kind of love after my mom’s death.” There, she’s said it. Silence on the other end. “Lanie?”

“Of course you’re capable of it.” For the first time there’s an uncertain note to Lanie’s voice. Not something Kate wants to hear after sharing one of her deepest fears with her best friend.

“I gotta go,” Kate says. Her skin prickles; she feels naked and vulnerable after divulging something so dark.

“Kate, just wait a second. You two would be good together; we can all see it. And it’s okay if you aren’t ready right this second. But when you do get your life back, when everything fits into place again…you’re gonna have to take that leap. You can’t expect him to wait around forever.”

“I know. Goodbye, Lanie.”

“Bye.”

She sets her cell phone back on the arm of the sofa, mind filled with disquiet. Despite Lanie’s convictions, she can’t accept that Castle really, truly loves her. Because she can’t even love herself right now, like this.

* * *

Castle jumps as his phone rings. “Castle.”

“Kiddo, what is up? I just got your message. Is something wrong with Katherine?”

“Mother, why didn’t you stop Meredith from taking Alexis to Europe?”

“Meredith took—? To Europe? I have always said to that girl, she needs to learn to stand up to her mother. For how long this time?”

“Two weeks, but that’s not the point. Alexis _chose_ to go. Without asking me. Or you, apparently.”

“Chose? Why would she choose to go without consulting you first? That doesn’t sound like Alexis at all.”

“She’s mad at me for deciding to go with Kate up to her dad’s cabin in the woods without telling her.” His mother tries to break in. “No, Mother, I don’t need a lecture; I know I made a mistake. But how do I fix it? Their flight left already for Lisbon and I can’t exactly go chasing after them.”

“Let the girl cool down for a day; let her get some perspective. Then call Alexis tomorrow or the day after and tell her everything. Spare no details. Treat her like an adult, the way she wants to be treated, and show her that you respect her and are sorry.” When said like that, Martha’s suggestion seems simple.

“But it’s not my story to tell; it’s Kate’s. She’s a very private person. You know that. This whole being injured thing is hard for her, and she won’t want to advertise it.”

“Richard, you need to make a decision. This is not going to just blow over. You cannot just sit it out. This is your relationship with your daughter we’re talking about.”

“And my relationship with the woman I love.”

“Then you need to talk with her. Explain the situation. I’d like as much as you a solution that leaves everyone happy in the end. But if the three of us can’t come up with one, then you need to decide where your priorities lie.”

* * *

When Castle emerges from his room, he looks just as perturbed as she feels. Kate can tell by the grim line of his mouth, and, though he says nothing, by the _tap … tap … tap_ of the keys on his computer, followed by long lines of _deleeete_.

They exchange only terse words for the rest of the day and while he preps dinner. It’s obvious they’re not mad at each other, but neither is taking solace in the other’s presence either. After a few attempts to make conversation over salad and lasagna, both of them give up and sit in the silence of their own thoughts.

“Night, Castle,” Kate says about an hour after dinner. He’s reading the newspaper on his laptop.

“Night,” he says, giving her a sad smile. She glances down at the page number before closing her book. Placing one hand on the arm of the couch, she pushes herself into a standing position, making her way to her bedroom with the pace of the sloth. As she enters, she decides she really doesn’t like that comparison.

Kate flicks on the light and shuts the door softly behind her. After washing her face, brushing her teeth, and changing her bandages in the bathroom, she lays down on the bed, snuggling under the covers. As much as she can snuggle when every movement of her midsection causes pain to erupt in her chest.

Lying there on her back, she slows her breathing to try to quiet her mind enough to fall asleep. She’s been wondering if emptying her mind before falling asleep will prevent the nightmares from returning, and now seems as good a night as any to try it. Making her mind go blank for more than a few seconds, however, proves to be nigh on impossible.

She’s standing at the podium, the scene frozen around her. Her audience—including Lanie, Esposito, Ryan, and Castle—are still watching her intently, listening to the speech that is no longer flowing out of her mouth. Only _he_ can move, the man striding towards her from behind the tombstones. She can’t even get a good look at his face, couldn’t describe him to a sketch artist if she wanted to. Not that she will get the chance.

Relaxed as can be, he ambles up to her. Everything in her is yelling for her to run, to kick, to punch, anything, but she is still frozen as he levels his sniper rifle to her chest, pressing the muzzle to her. All she can do is open her mouth in a scream as the bullet explodes through her chest.

The scream doesn’t stop when her eyes bolt open in bed, doesn’t stop until she realizes it’s her and she closes her mouth. Castle bursts in with a flash of light from the living room, silhouetting his form like an angel. Minus the wings.

“Kate! Kate, it’s okay. It was just a nightmare.” He rushes to her side, all love and concern. Her heart pounds in her chest and her face is wet with tears she didn’t even know she’d cried. “Kate…” he says her name again as he sits down next to her and smoothes back her hair. With much effort she scoots over to make room for him on the bed, head falling against his chest as soon as he’s settled. His warmth is comforting as he holds her.

All she knows is that he’s there when she falls asleep, and he’s still there through every shooting after that.


	18. My Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate revisits some old memories and struggles with who she is now.

A warm mass lies beside her, stealing half the bed covers—perhaps more than half—and threatening to roll her straight off her side of the bed. Wait a second. Her side? Since when was she sleeping with—?

Castle. Kate turns to look at him. He has stayed with her the whole night. She’s grateful for that, but it just makes her more confused about their relationship. Things are moving too quickly, giving her more things to second-guess without enough time to reach conclusions about the previous ones.

She is just watching him breathe, eyes closed and peaceful. She imagines she kept him up half the night with her nightmares, and Kate has ever been an early riser.

After a moment more, her bare feet touch down on the cold floor and she turns away. It’s a struggle to rise off the bed, and she was right yesterday—her muscles are definitely sore. Dr. Sven had warned her not to overdo it on the exercises. Dr. Burke had warned her that she was likely to want to. Perhaps both of them know her better than she knows herself. She wonders what the psychiatrist would say about her and Castle.

In the shower, while washing gingerly around her incisions and scars, another idea strikes her. She can’t ask Dr. Burke—she doesn’t know how to get into contact with him nor does she like the idea of spilling her secrets to a man she doesn’t know—but she can ask someone else. Someone she trusts implicitly; someone who knows her better than anyone.

From this person, she’s not likely to get an answer. In fact, she won’t get an answer at all. But in the simple act of telling someone, it’ll take the weight off her chest and give her some room to breathe. Breathing room sounds good right now.

After dressing in the clothes she had taken into the bathroom with her—she’d never have heard the end of it if she walked into her room wearing just a towel—she exits her room for the kitchen table. Castle is still fast asleep on the bed and she’s inclined to leave him that way, both to avoid talking about last night and to avoid his questions about what she’s doing. Kate squats down by a small shelf and works a sheet of blank paper out of the stack. When she stands again her chest flares, so she pauses to down this morning’s pain meds before sitting down to write. She begins like she usually does, with the date.

_June 2, 2011_

In these, she gives nothing but the full and complete truth. Always.

_Dear Mom,_

_PTSD and convalescence are hard, but I signed up for the possibility of those when I joined the NYPD ten years ago. Love, however, I’m finding is much more difficult to deal with, and that one I didn’t anticipate. Why didn’t you warn me it was this hard?_

_He told me he loved me after I was shot. Castle, the man I’ve been telling you about. He’s the one that’s been shadowing me on my cases and driving me nuts. That’s a good thing, most of the time. I was falling for him too, no matter how hard I tried to stop myself. But when he said it out loud, it all became very real, very fast, and I wasn’t ready. I might have been before the bullet struck me but definitely not after. It was all too much to deal with even though I knew I loved him back. He said he loves me, but how do I know it’s real? I feel bad for doubting him after all he’s done for me, but there’s still a shadow of doubt that keeps me from just letting it happen, keeps me distant._

_Mom, I don’t know what to do. We’re living in the cabin together while I recover, but we’re just getting closer and closer and I don’t know what I’m doing. One minute I’m doubting the relationship, the next I’m curled up in his arms. The PTSD certainly isn’t helping with that at all. I say that I need time to get my life back, but I think that’s just an excuse I give to everyone, including myself. I’m really scared he only loves the precinct side of me, or that I’ll end up one of his ex-wives. I’m sure he thought he was in love with them too, when he married them. And even if what he feels_ is _genuine, how can I know what_ I _feel is? Will, and Tom, and now Josh...those relationships all fell apart. I value too much what we have now to let mine with Castle end up that way. As a teenager, I really wanted love more than anything else. I wanted to find my someone who would laugh and cry with me and love me unconditionally despite my faults. I know I went looking for that kind of love in all the wrong places, but I still want that. And I can see that man being Castle._

 _But even if he_ is _the one, I’m afraid I’m not ready. I’m not sure I can love like I’m asking him to love. To that depth, to that level of commitment. Ever since your death, I don’t feel capable of that strong of love anymore._

_I’m not sure I ever will be. Then is it fair to enter a relationship with Castle knowing that I’ll never be able to give him the kind of love he deserves?_

_I wish you were here to advise me on this, Mom. So you could brush your hand across my cheek and give some magical advice that would make all my problems go away. And then, when they did, laugh and say, “I told you so.”_

_I had so many plans on what I would do when I finally met “the one” and what it would be like. I imagined it would be like those fairytales, love at first sight and happily ever after. I wanted to bring him home for dinner so you and Dad could meet him for the first time. I wanted the chance for you to tell him embarrassing stories about my childhood that I could pretend to mad at you over but be secretly glad because you’re making him feel like part of the family. I wanted to plan our wedding with you and pick out a dress with you and see you crying as I approached the altar. I wanted to share so much of my life with you and explore it together. Even after twelve years, it hurts that we’ll never get the chance._

_I miss you._

_Love,   
_ _Kate_

She slowly sets the pen down, reading over what she has written. Then she quickly wipes away a tear, anxious to make sure it does not fall on the paper. She carefully stashes the letter away in a corner, making a mental note to bring it home with her when they leave.

A curious feeling is present inside of her. The aftermath of writing such a letter is one of the more puzzling experiences in her life. She feels close to her mother, which gives her comfort, but at the same time she’s sad that their communication is reduced to this and talking to a tombstone. She wouldn’t classify writing these letters as something she likes to do, but she doesn’t dislike it either. It helps to still feel some connection to her mother.

“Hey,” Castle says from the doorway, causing her to jump. He must have woken up.

“Hey,” she greets him with a sad smile. She wonders if her eyes are still wet, but wiping to check will just make it all the more noticeable.

He tilts his head, looking at her more carefully. His hair is poofy and he has slight bags under his eyes, but he looks semi-alert. She must look worse than normal from the look he’s giving her. She hasn’t had the chance to apply any makeup yet or work a brush through her hair. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” she replies. “You? You look tired. Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t be. I’m here for you. But it wasn’t just the nightmares, it was Alexis and something my mother said.”

“Oh?”

He appears hesitant to say. “She…she said I should wait a day to let Alexis cool down and then treat her like an adult.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad. Why would that keep you up?”

“Because she also said I needed to tell Alexis what was really going on. Everything. And if you didn’t agree, I needed to decide who my priority is.” Kate is struck dumb by that last statement. For a second she can’t believe Martha would say something so cruel; then the logical side of her kicks in and she can empathize with her. Martha only has Alexis’s best interests at heart—it’s not her job to take care of Kate as well. As for Kate, her duty is to Castle. And if this is what Castle needs from her…

She never meant to get in the way of his relationship with Alexis, but somehow, she did. And now she feels responsible. Alexis should be—and hopefully is—his number one priority. Kate has the utmost respect for the father-daughter relationship, given that she nearly lost hers. After her mother’s death, Jim’s alcoholic years had been the darkest period of her life—the only time she ever felt completely alone. Though she felt her mother’s death deeply, it was her father’s descent that truly changed Kate. She had been forced to grow up prematurely, to be strong for him where another would have fallen apart, to put her life together with no outside help. Her mother’s murder had changed the course of her life forever, but her father’s absence had changed _her_ forever.

It goes against everything in her core, everything she has built up for twelve years, but she knows it’s what she must do. She can’t make him—and never meant to, doesn’t want him to—choose between her and his daughter. If she’s honest with herself, it’s partially for fear he’d choose Alexis, partially for fear he’d choose her.

“Castle, it’s…it’s okay. Your relationship with Alexis is more important than keeping this a secret. If it’ll help…you can tell her everything that’s been going on.” The words feel like something vile she’s shoving out her mouth and a small, deep-seated feeling of panic is rising inside of her. Alexis will never view her the same way again, the way Kate wants people to perceive her.

It doesn’t matter, she tells herself as Castle’s face clears. “Are you sure, Kate? I know this is a sensitive subject for you…”

She nods her assent. “When are you going to call her? I’d…I’d like to be around when you do.”

He smiles. “Of course. I was thinking tonight at two, so it’ll be around eight in the morning in Paris. I know it’s kind of late, but…”

Kate understands. He doesn’t want to wait any longer than he has to to talk with his daughter. “Wow, Castle, you know that off the top of your head?” She’s teasing him now, trying to leave the heavy topics behind.

“Best-selling author. I get around.”

“Do you know any French?”

“I learned it in school, but I promptly forgot it once I entered college. Alexis tried to re-teach it to me as she learned it, but the only thing I remember are the swear words.”

“I find it hard to believe Alexis taught you French swear words.”

“No, I remember those from high school,” he grins. “Breakfast?”

“Actually, no, you don’t have to cook today, Castle. I’m in a cereal mood.”

“Cereal’s so boring. But fine.” He plops the box in front of her and starts a search for spoons. She half-rises from her chair. “Don’t you even get up,” he says, pointing behind him without even looking. She sinks back down.

“I’m just injured, not paralyzed,” she complains, giving him a look.

“And I can see in your eyes exactly how much pain you’re in when you try to stand or walk.” He delivers a bowl and a spoon to her place, followed by the carton of milk.

She can’t argue with that one, just purse her lips and let the subject drop. He’s right, but how’s she going to get better if she doesn’t push herself? Working through the pain has always been her tried-and-true method…but then again, she’s never been recovering from a bullet wound before.

She dumps some cereal into her bowl and patiently waits for him to pour the milk. Dr. Sven had been very clear that Kate was not to lift anything heavier than a tablet computer for the next couple weeks, and Castle is more than happy to do the honors. “I’m going to take a walk outside today,” she informs him, digging in with her spoon. He creates his own bowl and sits down across from her.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Kate? I mean, you have trouble just going from room to room.”

She affixes him with a defiant stare. “I won’t go far. Just around the cabin a few times. I want some sunlight and fresh air.”

“Okay,” Castle agrees reluctantly. “Stay close. Yell if you need me.”

She doesn’t merit that an answer. She’s not some child he has to admonish and protect. Has he forgotten that already?

She finishes breakfast in silence, checking her phone for messages and her email for anything important. Nothing, just a voicemail reminding her of the appointment tomorrow with her doctors. A check-up with Dr. Marks and a session with Dr. Sven. At least they’re not requiring another visit to Dr. Burke.

Kate wonders briefly if they should make a day out of her visit to the city. Visit Lanie, or Espo and Ryan. Then she remembers how frightening the city is and decides the precinct isn’t a good option right now. She’ll wait and see how she feels after physical therapy and then decide to drop in on Lanie or not.

She places her dishes in the sink and makes her way to the door. She opens it and stands in the threshold for a moment, sunlight warming her body and a cool breeze refreshing her. Keeping her fingers splayed and gently brushing the wall, she exits out, feeling the surge of energy in her leg muscles. Her breath lets out in a huff as she takes her first step forward. It feels odd to her to be wearing shoes—real shoes where her heel is no more than two centimeters away from the ground. A twig snaps under her feet and she leaps for the wall, searching frantically for the tell-tale glint of a rifle hidden among the trees. There is none and she manages to calm herself down relatively quickly, taking charge of her own breathing and concentrating on it.

Once she feels safe enough to continue onward, all that’s left to do is wonder what happened to the little girl who refused a night light at age five.

To the sixth grader bold enough to play basketball with the big kids.

To the junior who, despite everyone’s reservations, took on a schedule containing five AP classes and managed to balance all of her coursework with volunteering and a dynamic social life.

To the college student who left all by herself for a semester in another country whose language she only half- knew.

To the desperate daughter who stood up to her father and finally forced him to get sober after five years of drinking after her mother’s death.

To the young woman who entered the male-dominated Academy and received her badge, determined to find justice for those who could not get it for themselves.

To the thirty-one-year-old detective who didn’t mind being first to burst through the door without knowing what was waiting on the other side.

Kate sighs, leaning her back against the building and running her hand through her hair. How did she fall so far, to be reduced to…to this? She tries to tell herself that it’s only temporary, that she’ll recover her personality as her body heals, but it’s hard to believe when she hasn’t seen that much improvement. All her life she’s been courageous and strong and _brave_ —she’s always taken life head on and come out better because of it. So why, in the face of flash backs and nightmares, does her bravery desert her? They aren’t even real, just warped memories that she’s forced to relive over and over again. Her mind is waging war against itself, constructing and bringing forth the images that terrorize her.

It’ll do no good to think like this, and she knows that. All she can do is take it one day at a time, maybe try some of the techniques Dr. Burke recommended. She has to be content with only managing two laps around the cabin—it’s better than she ever does inside. She has to be content with occasionally needing a bit of help. So she opens the door and slips back in, taking off her shoes and sinking down on the couch.

“So, how was it?” Castle asks over the lid of his laptop.

“Good,” she lies. Being alone with her thoughts wasn’t nearly as relaxing as it used to be. She reaches down amid a flare of pain and extracts a small shoebox from between the couch and the wall.

“What’s that?” Castle asks curiously. She turns it so all her can see is the muddy brown lid as she opens it. His writing is all but forgotten. Castle is almost as famous for his having a nine-year-old’s attention span as he is for his novels.

“Just a box of stuff,” she answers, staying nonchalant. Kate adopts a look of great concentration as she stares at the motley collection of items inside.

“Come on, please?” Castle says. He’s giving her his patented puppy-dog eyes, the ones she’ll never admit melt her heart.

“All right, come here,” she says, making place for him on the couch next to her. He grins and sets his laptop down, taking the seat on her right. If he had a tail, it would be wagging a mile a minute. “This,” she gestures to the box, “holds twenty years of my family’s history in this cabin.” She picks out an object and smiles. After a moment she hands it to him. “This is Meep.”

“Meep the Sheep?” Castle asks, giving the fluffy animal a little squeeze.

“Yeah. My first time in this cabin, when I was one, this was the little stuffed animal I always fell asleep with. Somehow it got left behind, and when we went home my parents could not get me to sleep. After five hours of my crying, my dad finally drove back up here and fetched him for me.” She laughs softly.

“What?”

“He says he did it because he loved me so much, but I think it was mostly just to shut me up.”

Castle laughs too. “Yeah, well, babies can be a handful, trust me.” He hands Meep back to her and she sets him inside, digging for the next item. Kate hands him a folded sheet of yellowed paper, watching as he opens it. “A drawing?”

“No, just the acorn,” she nods to it. It’s her mother’s drawing, definitely, as Kate had only been two for this one. “It’s a drawing of the acorn I found just outside when I was little.”

Castle appears puzzled. “Why is that significant?”

“Because the biggest, fluffiest-tailed, meanest-looking squirrel I _have ever seen_ chased me around for half an hour to get ahold of it.” She’s trying to keep a straight face for this one but just can’t as Castle bursts out laughing.

“Kate Beckett, traumatized by a squirrel attack,” he chortles. “I have _got_ to tell that one to Ryan and Esposito.”

“Shut up,” she says, rolling her eyes.

They spend the next six hours going over everything in that box, neither taking any notice of the passage of time. Sometimes Castle interjects a story of his own, but it’s mostly Kate who’s doing the telling. She’s vaguely aware of how easy this is, to share these pieces of her past with him. How natural it seems. Her favorite is a drawing from her six-year-old self depicting her and her dad flying homemade kites in the clearing by the river. Her mom even took a picture of them to accompany the stick-figures. The kites have been gone a long time after a couple mishaps with particularly gnarly trees, so the drawing and the picture are the only remnants of those specific happy, carefree times. Castle’s favorite is a story she wrote when she was ten, her first story not required for school. She never was one for writing stories much past fifth grade, but Castle seems to really like it. He even says it’s better than he could have written at that age, but she doubts it. Best-selling adult authors, at least in her mind, are usually writing prodigies as children as well.

After they break for a lunch-dinner crossover, she puts the box away on the insistence that he must get some writing done today. Castle protests on the grounds that he’s almost finished chapter sixteen, but acquiesces anyway. He knows even better than she does what Gina’ll do to him if he’s late, she’s just the more responsible one. All too soon, however, the time she’s been secretly dreading rolls around, the time she’s tried to distract herself from with wistful, introspective thoughts on her walk and a nice trip down memory lane with Castle.

Two o’clock, and she’s not even tired. Nervous tension has made it impossible to relax since dinner. She couldn’t fall asleep right now if she tried. As the minute passes she’s hopeful Castle will just forget altogether, but she knows she’s being irrational. He needs to talk to his daughter, and her feelings come secondary. Her fears are baseless anyway…aren’t they? The clock turns to 2:04 as her indecision remains rooted inside.

“Castle, aren’t you going to call Alexis?” she forces out.

He smiles. “Yeah, of course. I was just waiting to see how long it would take you to remind me. I could see the battle raging behind your eyes.”

“Castle—“ She doesn’t even know what to say, but she hates that he can read her and play her so easily. He pulls out his phone and sighs. He makes eye contact with her and her annoyance is pushed to the back of her mind as he seems to draw strength from their visual connection. He presses a button and puts it on speakerphone in time to hear the second ring. Kate shifts uncomfortably in her place, breathing shallow and palms damp.

“Alexis’s phone, Meredith speaking!” a voice on the other end chirps.

“Meredith?” Castle asks, exchanging an eek-what-do-I-do-I-didn’t-expect-this look with Kate.

“What’s the news, kitten?”


	19. Famille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle has a call with Alexis and they head into the city again.

“Meredith, what are you doing with Alexis’s phone? Where’s Alexis?”

“Our darling’s just in the other room,” Meredith answers perkily. “But when I saw it was you, I couldn’t resist! We haven’t talked in _ages_.”

_Should I go?_ Kate mouths. She doesn’t want to get caught up in whatever problems Castle has with his ex-wife; that’s personal. Castle just shakes his head, looking annoyed.

“Meredith, give my daughter the phone. I want to talk to her.”

“I don’t know, Rick, maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you.” Meredith’s toying with him.

“I don’t have time to argue with you; do you know what time it is here? Just hand her the phone! If she doesn’t want to talk then she can tell me so herself!”

“Kitten,” Meredith pouts. “Hope you’re enjoying being the negligent parent this time around...”

“Meredith—!”

“Alexis!” his ex calls. “Someone special wants to talk to you!”

“Ashley?” comes Alexis’s muffled and excited voice. There’s rustling on the other end as the phone switches hands. “Hello?”

“Hey, pumpkin, it’s me,” Castle says.

“Oh. Hi, Dad.”

“I’m sorry, Alexis.” She’s silent on the other end. “I’m sorry I didn’t consult you and I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. You were right: I shouldn’t have waited to tell you about us moving. But you don’t know the full story.” Castle exchanges a look with Kate, who finds herself nodding back at him. “When we got home from the hospital—“

“No, Dad, stop,” Alexis says. Castle’s eyes widen and he closes his mouth. Alexis _did_ say last time that he could try to explain all he wanted, it wouldn’t make a difference. Bile rises in Kate’s throat as she waits for another father-daughter relationship implosion. She hates that it will be her fault. “Dad…how could you think you could just call me like this? Did I not make myself clear last time? You don’t want me in your life, so what gives you the right to barge in on mine? You don’t get to explain, because you’re not explaining! All you’re doing is making excuses, but you can’t do that to me this time, Dad. I know the truth. I know that you’d rather be there with her than here with me.”

“Alexis—“

“No, Dad, don’t call me again! We’re having a great time here without you!”

“Please—“

“If you want to spend your life with Beckett, then that’s none of my business, but don’t expect me to—oh, she’s gone, finally.”

“Alexis, please understand that I—“

Alexis laughs on the other end of the phone, a sound so unexpected that Kate jumps at the noise. “No, Dad, You don’t have to explain anything. I understand. I’m not mad at you.”

“Are you sure?” Castle says, bewildered. “Because that sounded kind of mad to me.” Kate’s spirits lift a fraction of an inch.

“No, I’m not mad. I understand. Sorry, that was just before Mom went away.” Kate looks at Castle for an explanation, but he has none. Alexis isn’t making any sense. “There’s a lot more going on than I know about —or than I _should_ know about. I know that you would never leave me alone unless Beckett really needed you. I don’t know what she’s going through or what’s going on, but it must be hard. Really hard. And you should be with her. I was wrong last time, accusing you of choosing her over me. That was out of line, and I’m sorry. I was asking to be treated like an adult while acting like a child.”

“But I should still give you—“

“An explanation? Dad, you don’t need to. That’s private, and I respect that. I have no right to ask for that information. I know how you feel about her, Dad—“ Castle’s head whips up as if in a panic. A slight bit of awkwardness pervades the space between them. If this were happening to anyone else, Kate would have burst out laughing. Alexis doesn’t know that Kate’s listening in on the conversation, and Castle appears mortified. “—and I have to realize I won’t necessarily have you all to myself anymore. She’s the woman you love, and I get that there are going to be times when she needs you too.”

Apology and fear are written all over Castle’s face, but he turns back to the phone and says, “Thank you, Alexis.” Kate’s own feelings are a tumult, but it’s not like she didn’t know this before Alexis said it. She remembers his words from the shooting. It’s just… Lanie, Espo, Alexis—does anyone _not_ know about the feelings Castle has for her, the ones she’s been oblivious to and then denying for three years? Castle’s still speaking. “Are you still planning to spend the next two weeks in Europe? It’s okay if you want to.”

“Yeah, I’m actually having fun here,” Alexis says quietly. “Mom’s paying me extra attention and taking me out to see all the sights and stuff. I think she likes it when I’m mad at you, which is why I had that whole charade before she left the room.”

Castle rolls his eyes at Meredith’s pettiness. “Okay, sweetie, I’m sure you have a big day to get to, so I won’t keep you. Yell at me before you hang up so Meredith keeps treating you well, okay?”

Alexis laughs. “Bye, Dad. Love you!”

“I love you too, pumpkin.” The call ends, leaving Castle and Kate sitting there in silence.

“Well, that was...unexpected,” Castle says. “But a big relief. We should get to bed.” Kate nods, all at once feeling incredibly sleepy.

“Back to the city tomorrow, don’t forget,” she murmurs.

“Oops, I almost did,” Castle says worriedly. “What’s time’s the appointment?”

“Morning. Nine, I think.” Kate checks her phone. “Nine thirty.”

“So, two and a half hours to get there, add in another for traffic, liberally...” Castle calculates aloud. “We should leave around six. That’s just three and a half hours of sleep...”

“It’s okay, Castle; we can handle it,” she says. “Night.”

* * *

“Night,” he replies. She moves towards her bedroom and he hesitates, wondering if he should follow and help her get to sleep. He decides against it, thinking she wouldn’t welcome the intrusion. It would be presumptuous of him if she didn’t ask first—or wasn’t already in tears. Besides, he’d better get to sleep himself in order to drive safely tomorrow.

He changes hurriedly into his pajamas and climbs into bed. He listens intently for a moment, then decides all is quiet. Comforted by the fact he and his daughter are on good terms once again, he quickly falls asleep.

_Vzzzzt! Vzzzzt!_ That’s obnoxious, he thinks, but then reflects as he shuts it off that most people view their alarms as obnoxious in principle. It’s five thirty in the morning, enough time for him to shower, get dressed, and make breakfast for the road. The hot water wakes him up fully and he hopes the sound won’t disturb Kate. He’s trying to make it so she can sleep until the last possible moment.

It’s not that she normally needs the sleep. He’s seen her pull consecutive all-nighters before, and with her job sleep is erratic and often interrupted. But he can tell healing is sapping a lot of her strength, and he wants to make the process as easy as possible for her. After his shower he enters her room softly, flicking on the light. She’s still asleep—her eyes are closed—but she’s not sleeping peacefully. She tosses her head ever so slightly left and right, wearing a pained expression. A moment of indecision culminates in Castle placing one hand over hers and touching her shoulder gently to wake her with the other. His actions are rewarded as her wrists strain against him before she realizes where she is. He’s narrowly avoided a punch in the face, or worse.

“Time to get up,” he whispers. Then he wonders why he’s whispering.

“’kay,” she mumbles. “Be out soon.” Castle takes that as a dismissal and heads into the kitchen. As much as he hates instant coffee, he brews some—decaf, unfortunately—while concocting a pot of oatmeal. He adds a dash of vanilla and a pinch of cinnamon as she comes in, fresh from her shower. 5:59.

He’s interested to notice she’s wearing full-on makeup again, something she’s neglected to do while it’s just the two of them. Somehow that thought makes him smile slightly and feel special.

He dumps the oatmeal into two plastic bowls and the coffee into travel mugs. The air outside is chilly, borderline freezing, but luckily the blanket from last time is still in the front seat. Castle places the coffee in the holders and the oatmeal on the dash and then climbs in his side. After checking that Kate is situated, he turns the key and moves his bowl of oatmeal to his lap. It’s hotter than he thought, uncomfortably so, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. Kate stabilizes hers on top of her leg, resting it against her stomach. The blanket insulates her from the intense heat, but he has no such luck.

Before they’ve even gotten out of the woods Kate’s polished off her breakfast except for the last dregs of coffee and is asleep again. Once the road is flat and straight Castle risks driving one-handedly in order to eat his oatmeal. He turns the radio on softly and then a little louder when it doesn’t seem to bother her. It helps keep him awake and focused on the road ahead of him. When he pulls into the hospital parking garage, they’ve only ten minutes to spare.

“Kate,” he touches her shoulder. “We’re here.” She stirs and he gets out of the driver’s side, going around to the trunk to get the wheelchair. He unfolds it and opens the passenger door. She sighs and slumps back down in her seat at the sight of it. “Come on, it’s only for a couple of hours. If you try to make it from the parking garage to the hospital, you won’t have any energy for physical therapy.” He seriously doubts she’d even make it to the hospital doors, but he refrains from voicing that. She acquiesces reluctantly, scowling as she sits in the rolling chair. Castle closes the car doors and locks them with a touch of the remote. The car beeps its acknowledgement of the command.

Castle wheels her towards the elevator, remarking silently to himself how easy it is to push her around. He doesn’t think he’s gotten any stronger since before the funeral, which means she must be incredibly light. She’s wearing street clothes today, and he can’t help but notice the slight looseness with which they hang on her. He should get her to eat more.

Neither of them says anything until he checks her into the hospital. They’re forced to wait in the waiting room for a few minutes and she has a clipboard questionnaire to fill out. He surreptitiously watches her out of the corner of his eye, curious as to the questions asked and the answers given. She’s been honest and marked that her pain medication has been taken more sporadically than prescribed, but she’s also marked her pain level as a four.

“You know, they like it better when you’re completely truthful on these things,” Castle says. Perhaps that came out a little more snarky than he meant it.

She glares at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Pain level at a four?”

“Well, compared to _dying from a bullet wound_ , this is a four.”

“Okay,” Castle backs off. Her glare clearly says he’s got no say in this matter. She shifts her arm to hide her answers, but it does little good. Two minutes later, when she thinks he isn’t watching, she changes to pain indicator to a six. Kate leaves the box for ‘nightmares,’ however, unchecked. Well, he supposes he has less of a problem with that. Medically it shouldn’t really matter at this stage.

“Katherine Beckett,” says the small Asian nurse from before.

“Here,” Castle says, standing up and placing his hands on the wheelchair.

“Two doors down to the left,” the nurse instructs him, pointing. “I’ll be right with you, and Dr. Marks will be there in a few minutes after he finishes up with his other patient.”

“Thanks,” he replies automatically, pushing her down the hall. The room is empty save for a sink, large cupboard, and cushioned table that could serve as both a chair and a bed. Castle positions Kate so she faces the door. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Castle, I’m going to be taking my shirt off,” she rolls her eyes. “So, no.”

“Oh, right,” he replies. “ _May_ I stay?”

“Castle!” She’s smiling just a little bit as he exits out the door.


	20. The Morgue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle and Beckett visit Lanie.

He’s seated in the waiting room, wishing he’d brought his laptop or at least his book. He’s half-considering typing out Chapter Seventeen on his phone when it buzzes in his hand. Meredith. He pauses, wondering whether or not he wants to take her call. Under normal circumstances, he would, but it’s likely going to be a continuation of yesterday’s ugliness. Then again, Alexis is in her custody right now so he’d better answer in case something’s wrong.

Castle exits the waiting room and stands in front of the hospital building in the muggy air. The thick clouds overhead are trapping in the heat, leading to a stifling—yet not sunny—day. He’s not the only one out there making or taking a phone call. The woman to his left is commiserating with someone, face soaked with tears, and the man to his right is yelling. Castle and Meredith’s conversation will fit right in here.

He catches it on the last ring. “Hello?”

“Rick, _you’ve got some nerve_.” Here we go, he thinks. “How dare you throw away Alexis like that! You’re her father; that’s not a job you can just blow off when you want to! Not that you would know what a job _is_ , seeing that you’ve never worked a day in your life. You’re the one who’s always telling me that I need to be a better parent, be around more, keep my promises, and spend more time with my daughter. What do you say now, you filthy hypocrite? She cried herself to sleep the night before—“ Either Alexis is a better actress than he gives her credit for or Meredith’s exaggerating again. “—and today I had to take her to a fancy restaurant, a high-end boutique, _and_ the Ange Boulangerie to finally see a smile on her face again!”

Castle smiles—Alexis really is milking this for all it’s worth. Perhaps she learned a few tricks from Martha to pull this one off. “And in the boutique she wouldn’t even let me buy her anything, like she didn’t think she deserved it! Alexis’s self-esteem is down the drain, and you’re the one who put it there!” Ah, now that sounds more like his daughter, keeping Meredith’s attention but not manipulating her into buying her expensive things. That would just make Alexis feel incredibly guilty. He’s not sure where Alexis got her outspoken conscience.

Well, he’s not going to be the one who ruins Alexis’s little charade. So he listens to Meredith’s tirade with a slight, amused smile on his face, jutting in at just the right times to get a few contradictory words in before letting her continue. At last he feels it’s winding down. “I just can’t believe you, Rick. Alexis will be returning from her call with Ashley soon, but this isn’t over. Remember—when Alexis goes to Stanford for college, she’s going to be on _my_ side of the country. And I am perfectly ready to be the better parent!”

“Wow,” Castle says after ending the call. He had had no idea that Meredith could be so protective as a parent. Or perhaps she just likes being the righteous one for once. It amuses him that she’s throwing his own words back at him, twelve years later. He slips his phone back into his pocket and goes back to the waiting room. He sends a quick text off to Alexis, warning her of Meredith’s plotting for her university days. He hopes Meredith remembers that hanging around with their mother isn’t exactly the college-life dream of most students.

When Kate comes out, she’s in her wheelchair again, and looking thoroughly annoyed to be there. Castle retrieves her from the nurse and asks, “So, how was it?”

“Everything looks good,” she yawns. “Learned some new, harder stuff in physical therapy to try.”

“Where to?” Castle asks. “The cabin?”

She runs a hand through her hair, blinking several times to look more awake. “Could we pick something up from my apartment? We can eat there and then maybe we can go see Lanie.”

“Sure,” Castle replies, surprised but happy. He’s happy she’s not cutting herself off from the world during her recovery like he thought she might. Granted, she’s not as social as normal—not seeing the boys or anything— but at least she’s staying in touch with her best friend.

And him. He feels so lucky she’s sharing this with him.

Castle watches her out of the corner of his eye as he drives to her apartment. She is staring out the window the whole time, whether lost in thought or appreciating the city sights he doesn’t know. He wonders if she misses it while at the cabin, or if it’s a welcome reprieve. She insists on leaving the wheelchair in the back seat just as he insists she take the elevator, not the stairs. She’d just be stupid to try considering how ashen her face is by the time she reaches her door. Kate Beckett is many things, but she’s not stupid.

“Castle, come in here; I need your help to lift it,” she calls from inside her bedroom. He finds her standing in front of her closet pointing at an oddly-shaped black object near the back. It isn’t until he pulls it out that he discovers it’s a guitar case, heavier than he expects it to be. And awkwardly weighted, he thinks, as he accidentally bangs it on the edge of the bed. “Careful,” she warns as he maneuvers it out the door.

“Why do you want to bring this back with us?” he asks.

“It’ll give me something to do besides read,” she replies. “And I can do it sitting down.”

“What, just talking to me isn’t entertaining enough for you?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, Castle, I like variety. That’s why I like the weird cases.”

“Well, that and the fact you met me while working one of them,” Castle amends.

“Wow. Egotistical much?”

“And proud of it.” Castle lowers the guitar case carefully into the trunk and closes it. Kate jumps at the bang and then tries to hide it by leaning against the car with her elbow. “You okay?” he asks her.

“Yeah, fine,” she lies. Her eyes are darting around too much for her to be fine. She notices the look he’s giving her. “Let’s just get to the morgue, okay?” She pulls the door open perhaps more roughly than normal and climbs inside.

“Okay,” he murmurs, getting behind the wheel once again. They drive in silence for a minute before he says, “I’ve never seen you play before. Are you good?”

“Not anything special, but I can play the chords and do the strumming patterns,” she replies. “I first started learning when I was eleven, and then off and on I would play after that. Usually after breakups or bad test scores or stuff like that.”

Castle narrows his eyes. “There’s no way I’m going to get you to tell me about said breakups, is there?”

“ _No_ ,” she says derisively.

“Thought not. Okay then, what songs can you play?”

“Pretty much anything with the chords written out after a few tries, but I’ve played a lot of Taylor Swift.”

“Taylor Swift? I never pegged you as a Taylor Swift fan.”

“I’m not particularly. I have a much younger cousin Charlotte who was really into her, and we used to hang out a lot before she moved. When my dad and her parents would talk, we would play those songs in the living room. Until I got better, it created quite a ruckus. I got a lot better within these last few years.” She smiles at the memory. “Tell you what, Castle, when we get back to the cabin you can pick any Taylor Swift song and I’ll play it for you and you can sing it. Alexis likes her music, right? So you should know the lyrics.”

“Just ‘cause my daughter likes it, why does that automatically mean I know the songs?”

“I was a teenage girl once too. She probably plays them all over the apartment...and on repeat for days on end. We all did.”

“Fair point. But I’m only singing if you do with me.”

“Castle...”

“Come on...please?”

She makes this cute harrumph noise in her throat. “Fine.” Castle grins as he parks outside the morgue.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Kate replies with a nod. She and Castle exit the car and he stays close to her as they approach the building. He holds the door open for her as she steps inside and leads the way to Lanie’s usual station. The wall turns into glass as they come close and the door is open.

“I told you, Javi, we need to act professionally in the workplace.”

“Come on, chica, it was one comment; nobody even heard,” Esposito replies.

“It’s not just this one time! This isn’t going to work if you keep—“ Kate knocks on the door, interrupting Lanie and Esposito’s hushed conversation. They practically leap apart. “Kate!” Lanie exclaims, pulling off her blue gloves and hurrying over to meet her. “What are you doing here, girl? How are you?” Esposito looks equally happy to see her, if a bit rattled.

“I’m doing better, Lanie, thanks,” Kate says, smiling. “Hey, Espo.”

“Hey Beckett,” he replies. “Come to see dead bodies instead of solve murders? Interesting career change.”

Kate rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. No, if you need me to come help you with your cases because you and Ryan are incapable of functioning without me, feel free to call.”

Castle connects Lanie and Esposito with his fingers, noting how the two of them are standing an awkward distance apart. “So, what’s up with you guys?”

“Castle!” Kate hisses. She tries to step on his foot but misses. He steadies her hastily, trying to act like nothing has just transpired.

“We’re fine,” Lanie says shortly, moving to the other side of the examination table and disposing of her gloves in the wastebasket underneath.

“Sure you don’t want to—“ Castle begins before Lanie cuts in.

“Castle, you ask one more question and I’m gonna smack you.”

“Take her seriously; she’ll do it,” Esposito adds. Lanie fixes him with a death stare and he closes his mouth.

“Lanie, could I talk to you, privately?” Kate asks.

“Sure,” Lanie looks away from Esposito and leads her into an adjoining room, shutting the door behind them.

For a moment there’s silence between him and Esposito. “Girl talk. Wonder what they’re discussing,” Castle says.

“When the women convene in private, it’s never good, bro,” Esposito shakes his head. “For one of us at least. This time I’m gonna go with me…unless you’ve done something horrendous to Beckett in the last twenty-four hours?” Castle opens his mouth to respond. “By the way, if you say yes, I will knock your teeth in.”

“...No,” Castle says slowly. “For the two of us, it’s been pretty smooth sailing.” “Lucky you. You make it official yet?”

“Well, no…”

“You talk about it yet?”

“Well, not in so many words...”

“You tell her about the man on the phone?”

“Well—“

“Okay, man, I don’t envy you anymore. All hell’s gonna break lose when Beckett finds out about that secret.”

“Which is why I haven’t told her.”

“Bro, I get why,” Esposito says. “And to some extent I agree with you. But I’ve been thinking since we last talked, and…she’s going to find out sooner or later. Maybe you just want to get it over with now, so that she’s incapacitated enough to be prevented from diving in and it doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass later when that holding pattern of yours breaks.”

“Holding pattern?”

“Lanie’s words, not mine. Listen, lying or keeping things from Beckett is not the way you want to start the relationship. The hardest thing to get from her is trust, and right now you have it. Don’t screw it up.”

* * *

Lanie closes the door behind them, but Kate barely notices because she’s transfixed by the body lying on the table. It’s a woman with two GSWs just below her shoulder and the sight makes Kate’s blood solidify into ice. She could be lying there on that table. That could have been her.

The spell is broken as Lanie whips the light blue cover sheet over the victim’s shoulders and face. Kate sinks down on the stool and Lanie pulls up a chair across from her. “What did you want to talk about, Kate?”

“Is everything okay between you and...” she gestures feebly towards the door.

“Not really.”

“But Castle told me you two were getting along great at the hospital. What happened?” she pauses. “I mean, if you want to share, I’m here.”

“The hospital was a special circumstance, Kate. We both needed someone to comfort us, so of course we were fine then. But lately…” Lanie trails off, so Kate has to prompt her.

“Something about acting professionally at work?”

“Yes, but it’s not really about that. It’s about more than that. I know you and Ryan and Castle all know about us, but we’re still keeping it a secret from the others. Javi’s ready to put it out in the open, but I’m not yet. It feels like he’s trying to rush this while I’m still figuring it out.”

“Have you told him that?”

“I’ve tried, but neither of us can say what we really feel. So we’re just going in circles, fighting the same fights over and over again.”

“I’m sorry, Lanie.” Kate gives her friend a sad smile.

“Yeah, well, just ‘cause my love life is circling doesn’t mean yours is. What’s new with you and Castle?”

“We _just_ talked two days ago. So no, nothing new.”

“You two are living together. A ton can happen in two days, girl!”

“We are not—well, yeah, I guess we kinda are,” Kate says defeatedly. “But not like that, okay? Separate beds, Lanie. Separate rooms.”

"Okay, fine, got it. But seriously, when you’re ready, I think you and Castle would be great together.”

Kate looks uncertainly at her best friend. “I’m not sure. I mean, after seeing what’s happened with you and Espo…”

“Yeah, well, at least we gave it a shot. If it doesn’t work, then that’s that, but if it does…imagine how great we could be. You can’t throw away that kind of possible future with Castle because you’re scared it won’t work out. It’s only through trial and error that you’ll find the right one for you.”

“Okay, okay.”

“We should head back out. I trust Javi, but Castle could get himself into a lot of trouble out there without supervision.” Kate laughs. After rejoining Castle, they bid their goodbyes and Espo promises to pass along her greetings to Ryan.

“So, what was up with Esplanie?” Castle asks as soon as the car doors close.

“Esplanie?” She’s lost in thought.

“Come on, we’ve gone over this: an amalgamation of their names, and because they’re always esplaining things...”

“Oh, yeah… It’s none of your business, Castle.” Fortunately, Castle seems to respect her silence on the matter much more than he had Lanie’s at the morgue and quits asking questions. They talk of trivial things the whole way back, and Kate’s eyes are half-closed as she steps across the cabin threshold. It’s only seven o’clock, but it’s been a long day and she’s exhausted. Castle recognizes this and follows her to her room to say goodnight.

“I was supposed to play you a song,” Kate murmurs, remembering. She doubts her fingers are coordinated enough right now to use a fork. “Raincheck?”

“Raincheck,” Castle agrees.


	21. Crawling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beckett starts looking into her shooting.

Her fingers scrape lightly against the rough, textured wall of the cabin as she bites her lower lip. Cautiously she steps away from the building, nearly landing face-first in the pine needles as her foot catches on a small rock. She pauses, steadying herself for a moment. Then she continues on, each haggard step a step away from the cabin. The air is crisp and she’s enjoying the way it sears her lungs, gone much too quickly as early mornings get lost in the heat of the oncoming summer. She’s following a faint path that’s barely visible but she remembers from her childhood. Fishing was her dad’s thing, swimming was her mom’s, but they all loved long walks in the serenity of the woods. Her physical limitations will prevent this one from being long, but there’s no reason she can’t enjoy it all the same.

A bird is chattering overhead and a woodpecker is drilling somewhere nearby when she stops to rest on a fallen long, playing with a leathery strip of bark in her fingers. Looking back the way she’s come, she can’t make out the cabin behind the tree trunks and down the slight hill. Progress, she thinks satisfactorily. Much better than a week ago in the hospital.

Although now she’s tired and her chest is throbbing slightly. But still.

With a deep breath she pulls herself up from her seat and begins to shuffle back towards the cabin. She’s thinking about a long, hot shower when she gets back inside as she approaches it from behind. “KATE!” Castle’s bellow startles her, jolting her back into the cemetery as she drops and huddles in the crook of the wall. A bullet digs deeply into her chest and lodges itself there amid the screams of the audience and Castle’s shouts. Life blood bleeds out of her just as the tears do, except the tears are real and stain her face even after the flashback recedes. It threatens to overtake her again like a tidal wave every time Castle calls her name, and she knows the only way to stop it is to get him to stop calling. She wipes her face with her sleeve and stumbles around the edge of the cabin to come face to face with him.

“Kate, where have you been? I woke up and you were gone!” Castle’s flipping out, eyes dark with worry and shoulders full of tension.

“I went for a walk, sorry,” she says, looking him in the eyes. She hopes he can’t tell she’s been crying. He can’t.

“Okay, but…next time, take your phone with you. Cell reception may be spotty but it’s better than nothing.”

“Sorry, I will. I went a little further than last time, but now I just want to shower.” Her façade is breaking; she wonders whether she’ll have to shove her way past him into the cabin before it shatters. She wonders if she’s strong enough to do so.

Kate never has to find out, however, because after a moment more Castle turns and heads back inside. “I’ve got only six days to get the manuscript finished, so I’ll see you after.”

“Yeah,” Kate mutters, not really listening. She enters her room and shuts the door, heading immediately for the bathroom. Once inside, she leans heavily against the counter, hair falling in wisps out of her ponytail and into her face. A few seconds later she raises her head to look in the mirror.

A woman stares back at her evenly. She has light brown hair that sometimes borders on golden, slightly unkempt at the moment. Small ears, with the hair mostly tucked behind them. A mouth curved downwards slightly, a crease—permanent, perhaps?—in the forehead. Defined cheekbones and jaw line. A light sheen of sweat coating her neck and chest up to the lip of her shirt. The woman’s eyes are a deeper brown than her hair, but they contain a hardness within them, as well as fear and uncertainty.

Beyond basic recognition, the only thing that convinces Kate she and the woman in the mirror are one in the same is that the woman moves as she does. They part their lips at the same time. When Kate undoes her hair, so does the woman in the mirror. When Kate sticks her tongue out, the woman does as well.

Kate’s struck by the fact she doesn’t feel like the same person as a month ago. All she can hope is that when she gets back to her regular routine, the old Kate will come rushing back.

She forces herself to look away from the mirror, undressing slowly. She steps into the shower, careful not to slip on her still-shaky legs and melts into the warm water cascading down her back. How she wishes none of this had ever happened.

After toweling off, she dresses in comfy sweatpants and a T-shirt and peeks into the living room to see Castle hard at work writing his novel. She wonders where all the words come from—it seems impossible that one man could hold as many at once as what his fingers are pounding out onto the screen. Do I have that much to say in me? Kate thinks, but dismisses the thought. She has words, but not like he has words. His come from the imagination, while hers are conversations. Conversations she’s had, or hopes to have, or never will have. That’s the difference between them. Castle can write for the masses, but when Kate writes, she writes to someone. Generally just one person in particular.

She dials up the precinct while her computer boots, sitting on the bed with the door closed so Castle won’t hear. It’s not that she’s trying to hide what she’s doing, but she doesn’t want him to try to stop her or tell her she doesn’t have to be doing this. Because she does have to. She does.

Unfortunately, neither Ryan nor Esposito pick up at their desks. She could try their cells, but she doesn’t want to interrupt them if they’re out on a case—which they most likely are. If she’s honest with herself, she also doesn’t want to wait for them to get back. If she digs down to the root of it, she doesn’t want them asking the same questions Castle would. So she punches in another number.

“Karpowski.”

“Hey, it’s Beckett.”

“Oh, Beckett, how are you?” The woman on the other end of the line sounds surprised to hear from her.

“I’m on the mend, thanks. Listen, I’m going crazy not being at the precinct and working cases.”

“Yeah, well, the pile of cases keeps rising higher and higher when we’re down a detective. Plus some of them just have us running in circles. The one of I’ve got right now, the body was mutilated and whoever did it was smart enough not to chuck the wallet anywhere in the vicinity, so…no ID.”

“That’s rough. About that...”

“Don’t tell me you want me to slip you an unsolved case file... Do you know what Iron Gates would do to me? _No one_ would find all the pieces of my body.”

“Not a random file, no,” Kate says slowly. “I need mine. The one of my shooting.”

There’s stunned silence on the other end before, “Beckett, you know that’s even worse, right? You know even if you were here you wouldn’t be allowed to work that case.”

“I know, but…no one will find out. If I get anything useful, anonymous tip line, remember? You owe me one, Karpowski.”

Kate can literally feel the indecision radiating off the detective. “All right, for you, Beckett. But not a word of this to anyone, and now we’re even. If this gets out, I could lose my badge, or worse. Probably worse.”

“No one will find out,” Kate promises.

“Okay,” says Karpowski. “It’s in your personal email box in three...two...there.”

“Got it,” Kate answers, opening it up. “Good luck with your vic, Karpowski.”

“Good luck with your sniper.”

Kate frowns at the file in front of her, hating the digitized version. It’s just not the same as holding it in her hands, as if the important details that always allow her to solve it don’t pop out at her in this form. But it’s the best she’s got, so she makes do. To start, she types in the names of the groundskeepers in and around the cemetery. They all seem to have given a statement on where they were at the time of the shooting, but they all alibied out. But she’s not yet willing to rule out the possibility of one of them working with the man who shot her.

She searches them up, one at a time. It’s not as good as a background check like she could do at the Twelfth, but most people post way too much about themselves online, and these seven are no exception. Nothing strikes her as odd or noteworthy, however, and so she moves on. Fingers flying over the keyboard, Kate types in their names in conjunction with Hal Lockwood, Gary McCallister, John Raglan, and Roy Montgomery. Nada.

But she doesn’t give up. She will move on to other parts of the file—trace evidence, people with motive, the rifle left behind. And if nothing comes up, she’ll just try again. Because she has to get to the bottom of this. Because maybe then the nightmares and shaking and flashbacks and weakness will stop. Because maybe then she can go back to being a cop.

* * *

_Brrring! Brrring!_ The sound of his phone singing and buzzing breaks Castle from his writing zone, and he sets his laptop on the floor to answer it. Blocked number. “Castle.”

“Mr. Castle, we need to talk.” He knows that voice; it’s the voice of the man keeping Beckett safe. The voice that has been creeping into his dreams these last few nights to join him where Montgomery is shot and killed. “Are you alone?”

He looks around. “Uh, yeah, I think so. Kate’s in her bedroom. Is something wrong?”

“Do you remember our deal?”

“Keep Beckett away from her mom’s case, she stays safe. Yeah.” His heart pounds in his chest. Something about this man’s gravelly voice makes him want to hide in a corner.

“You broke our deal.”

“What? No, I didn’t. I didn’t!” It dawns on him. “Wait, you mean...she’s looked into her mom’s case?” His eyes stray towards her closed bedroom door. “Is that what she’s doing right now?”

“Yes. You must stop her immediately, before _they_ notice. If they have not already.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll do that,” Castle says. He’s starting to panic, and when he panics he can get pedantic and side-tracked.

“You’ll hear from me soon,” the man replies.

“Wait! What should I call you? Not to her, I mean, just so you’re not ‘the man on the phone’ in my head anymore.” Side-tracked: like that. “You may call me Mr. Smith.”

“Wow, original. Is that the best you could come up with? It’s as bad as Jones, or Lee, or Hunt.” And there’s the pedantic.

The line clicks dead without a reply. Castle hopes he hasn’t just pissed him off. Then he remembers the whole point of the call and hastens to Kate’s bedroom. His hand is looped around the doorknob before he remembers to knock. There’s a scuffle from inside and then, “Come in!”

He opens the door to find Kate seated cross-legged atop her bed, a closed laptop in front of her. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing much. Just checking email, that kind of thing. Why?”

“Oh, I, uh…was wondering what you wanted for lunch.”

“Anything’s fine.” Her wide-eyed look tells him all he needs to know, but he can’t figure out how to get her away from the laptop without her getting suspicious.

“Well, I could use some help on this scene I’ve written for Nikki. I was rereading it and I’m not sure the way she acts quite makes sense. Wanna run through it with me?”

Kate is reluctant, but says, “Sure.” Castle leads her out into the kitchen and turns on the stove as she seats herself at the table. “What’s the scene about?”

“So, Nikki is running through this park with these guys chasing her…”

To his relief, Castle manages to keep her distracted throughout lunch and even gets an idea for a new scene in Chapter Nineteen. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the chase scene as he had written it; he’s only pretending to be dissatisfied with it to keep her away from her computer. He can’t keep this up forever, but he doesn’t feel he can tell her about “Mr. Smith” either. She needs him right now because of her injury—where would she go if she kicked him out of her life? That and, well, he doesn’t really want her mad at him in the first place. Even if she does understand the reasons for his silence, she’ll launch a full investigation into the mysterious “Mr. Smith,” and he can’t have that either. So when she says she’s going to take a walk after lunch, he opts to join her just to keep the conversation going. Afterwards he suggests she give her dad a call, and that ends up being more than a two hour enterprise, as Jim actually had the afternoon off work. At some point, Castle peeks his eyes up over the rim of his laptop and slowly sets it down.

He creeps towards her bedroom, Kate’s voice emanating from the kitchen. Every time the floor creaks beneath his feet he cringes. She could kill him for this.

Castle softly opens the door and steps inside, closing it after him. Her laptop is right where she left it, and he deftly opens it to see her searches and open email. “Karpowski,” he mutters, annoyed. But how did Smith know she had started looking into her mom’s case? Was it the email, Karpowski herself, or the Google searches that had alerted him? Was there a mole in the precinct who could have been privy to this exchange?

If it was the searches themselves, there’s nothing he can do about that. Is it possible to tag keywords and be alerted when someone searches them? He doesn’t really know, but he supposes if “the Dragon” is as powerful as most claim, maybe he could do it. Another thought comes to Castle and he runs a virus scan on her machine.

The green progress bar edges along, moving much too slowly for Castle’s taste. Finally, it’s done. “Found the little bugger,” Castle mutters, highlighting the Trojan and clicking ‘Clean Computer.’ He sets all the windows back to the way he remembers them being and hurries out of the room. Kate is still talking to her dad.

Safe.

He only relaxes once he’s seated and writing again.

* * *

“I’m headed to bed, Castle,” she says, stifling a yawn. It’s after dinner, an hour after, and the book she’s been reading is barely holding her attention anymore.

“I’m gonna stay up a little while longer,” Castle murmurs. “Goodnight.” The glare from the screen is reflected in his eyes, still directed down toward it. Kate frowns slightly. His behavior has been odd all day, but she can’t discern the reason. Maybe something with Meredith or Alexis? No, based on past events he would have discussed that kind of thing with her. Something Espo said yesterday at the morgue? She hopes not.

“Night.” She pulls herself up from the couch and shuffles towards her room. Her laptop is sitting on her bed —she had almost forgotten about that with Castle’s Nikki Heat questions and her father’s concern. She powers it down and moves it under the bed. As her most recent dose of pain medicine hasn’t kicked in yet, her chest is full of a slight burning sensation as she brushes her teeth and washes her face. Kate changes into her pajamas like someone with rheumatism, as bending down is borderline excruciating. She climbs into bed and flicks off the light, hoping in vain that the nightmares won’t visit her tonight.

They do.

Kate opens her eyes as someone smacks her across the face, nearly knocking her over. She’s on her knees, the alley stretching out off to her left and the cemetery to her right. She’s not alone; there are three men standing over her and pointing their guns at her face. All of a sudden, one of them—Dick Coonan—turns and pulls the trigger. Her mother slumps to the ground in the alleyway, blood spilling out of her and onto the pavement in a red river. “No!” Kate screams, but the three men only laugh. She realizes that her father, Ryan, Esposito, Lanie, and Castle are there as well, at the mercy of these killers, on their knees just as she is. They don’t seem to know what’s going on, just stare blankly ahead until a gun is leveled at them. That’s when the look of terror takes shape.

Crack. Jim falls backward onto the concrete. Coonan grins evilly. “Please, stop,” Kate whimpers, but Lockwood only steps toward Ryan.

“Sorry, Detective, there’s nothing I can do.” Montgomery shrugs his shoulders at her. “There’s only the battle, the place you make your stand. The only question is, did you make your stand on the winning side.”

Crack. Crack. Ryan and Espo fall into the grass of the cemetery with two shots of Lockwood’s gun. A third crack. Lanie.

“Please,” Kate whispers as Coonan turns his weapon on Castle.

“Kate, it’s okay,” he whispers, but she can’t help the wail of anguish that comes out of her mouth as he too slumps to the ground.

The three men, including Montgomery, exchange looks. Lockwood tramps over, pressing the barrel of his gun to her head. “Well, well, well,” he says. “You’re the only one left.” She waits for the end, the splitting pain and then the nothingness. “Too bad the Dragon wants you alive. Death is too quick for you. He’s going to let you live…without them.”

Despair chokes Kate as she opens her eyes for real. She’s crying softly, uncontrollably, in the darkness of her bedroom. The only light comes from the digital clock reading 3:58 AM.

She can’t do it; she can’t do it alone. The night terrors are too much to handle. Now it’s not just she who’s dying in them, but all of them. All the people she loves. Johanna. Jim. Ryan. Espo. Lanie. _Castle_. The urge to check that he’s all right overtakes her and her feet hit the ground. She opens the door to her room and enters the hallway, using the glow of her phone as a flashlight. Her own breathing is too loud to hear his, so she pushes Castle’s door open as well and approaches the bed. In the semi-darkness Kate can see his chest rising and falling as he sleeps. Only marginally comforted, she perches on the edge of the bed to watch him. Slowly her legs snake under the covers and she crawls in with him, reminiscent of the days she would crawl into bed with her parents—this same bed. She scoots closer until she can hear his breathing and feel the warmth of his body next to hers. Then she places her phone on the nightstand and curls up into his embrace.


	22. Diving Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle wakes up to Beckett in his bed.

Castle stirs underneath the blanket, hand coming across smooth skin that’s not his own. He turns his head, getting just a glimpse of golden brown hair before he’s staring back at the wall, eyes wide. Could it really be her? Somehow it feels like if he truly looks, he’ll just be let down. Kate Beckett, in his bed? It would be a miracle.

Nevertheless, the suspense is killing him. So he quickly whips around for a peek, wondering who else it could be, and his hopelessly optimistic mind is just making up that it’s Kate. Meredith? Did he accidentally end up in bed with his ex-wife again? It wouldn’t be the first time... But no, she’s in Europe.

In the instant Castle looks at the beautiful woman fast asleep next to him, he knows it’s her. Kate. Here, at last.

Well, sort of. He doubts this will signify a drastic change in their relationship, but still…it’s a place he feared he’d never see her. If this is a dream, he thinks, I never want to wake up.

But it isn’t a dream, and deep down he knows that. He knows it so much that he’s smiling contentedly at Kate snuggled in beside him, a warm glow at the pit of his stomach. With his other hand he blearily ribs his eyes, turning his head to look at the clock. Much too early to get up.

He turns back to Kate, hesitantly hovering his arm over her body, wondering if he should let it down. He hovers indecisively for a moment, then slowly lays it across her. Maybe he’s overstepping her boundaries, maybe it’s too much too soon, but she’s the one who crawled into his bed, not the other way around. It’s time to set new boundaries, and he knows exactly where he’d like to be.

She doesn’t react when his arm softly touches hers and he slowly lets the whole weight down on her. Still nothing. She’s in a deep, deep sleep. He traces a heart on her shoulder lightly with his thumb and then stops. There’s no way he’s leaving this bed until she wakes up, and he doesn’t feel sleepy anymore either. So he waits for some sign of stirring in her features, committing them to memory. She looks so peaceful right now…smooth breathing, free of tension, his arm cradling her… He almost wishes he could stay like this forever, memorizing the curvature of her rosy lips, sharp jawline, and long, dark eyelashes. But everything ends too soon, and two hours pass in the blink of an eye when she yawns like a kitten, blinking in the sunlight. Castle quickly shuts his eyes and pretends to be asleep, watching her movements through a slit. She pauses, studies him for a few seconds with an unreadable expression, and then her lips curve upwards slightly. She brushes over the back of his hand with her thumb before gently sliding his arm off her body, preparing to start the day. He catches her wrist. “Hey.”

“Oh, you’re awake,” she says quietly, neither pleased nor disappointed by that fact. “I was just going to hop in the shower.”

“Kate, wait a minute, please?”

Her indecision is written all over her face but she settles back onto the pillow. “Yeah?”

“Just stay a minute.” He’s having trouble putting in the words what he wants to say; too many options, tones, stresses, and intonations are whirling around his brain. “Kate…” She looks at him expectantly, worry creasing her brow. She’s propped up on one elbow, waiting, but he still doesn’t know what he’s gonna say. “You’re beautiful in the morning, you know that?” Whatever she expected to come out of his mouth, that wasn’t it. Her features rearrange into a small smile as her ears tinge pink. She drops her head, hair obscuring her face for a minute.

“Thanks, Castle. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Come on, don’t get up yet. It’s still early.” He applies a slight pressure to her arm, pulling it out from under her and coaxing her to stay here, in bed, with him.

She considers for a moment and then snuggles into the crook of his arm. Inwardly, Castle crows. New boundaries, and he’s definitely getting a say in setting them. It’s perplexing, it’s confounding, it’s hesitant, but it’s also glorious. They’re completely comfortable there, or at least relaxed. She’s cutting off circulation to his arm a little too much for this to be classified as ‘completely comfortable.’ But there’s no way in hell he’s shifting and maybe causing her to decide it’s time to get up after all. This time with Kate is precious to him.

He doesn’t dare hope that this is the start of a relationship. Perhaps just a step in the right direction. Castle absentmindedly traces random patterns onto the flesh of her arm, and he’s glad to realize she’s not flinching away. It might not be the most friend-like thing to do, but again, new boundaries. Redefining their connection, even if it’s officially ‘just friends.’ He can live with that…for now.

She’s so extraordinary, beautiful, kind, spunky, and playful, he could just— He loves her, so much. And it’s as simple as that.

“What are you thinking?” Kate whispers. A dangerous question, to say the least.

“Just that I’m so happy to be here with you.”

She hums in response and then adds, “There’s no one I’d rather go through this with.” His heart might burst with love and joy. They lay there like that for another few minutes, Castle basking in the warmth of softness of her body cuddled up against his. Then:

“Castle, we should talk.” She pulls away from him and props herself up on her elbow again. He mimics her position, wary of the oncoming conversation but trying to look open and inviting to whatever she has to say.

“Okay, we can talk,” he tells her softly.

“I’m not ready for a relationship,” she says, eyes downcast. “Not yet. So I hope…I hope that’s not what you were expecting from this. And...” It’s a definite frown now, a struggle to get the words out. Waves of unhappiness radiate off her. “…and if it’s too painful for me to be here while we’re still just friends, then I’ll go. Back to my own bedroom, or you can go back to the city. If we’re going to be together, then I want to do it right. I want to give you my all, and I can’t do that during my recovery. I’m sorry if that changes anything for you, if that changes how you feel, or…”

“Kate.” She meets his eyes, naked fear present in hers. “You’re worth waiting for.” He kisses her forehead gently, wiping away the lines of worry across her face. “I will wait for you, however long you need. Always. I promise.”

Her beautiful brown eyes search his, full of fear, uncertainty, and…a tentative trust. Her silence and the way she settles back down with him tells Castle all he needs to know.

The rest of the day passes as if it’s a dream in which they’re both just floating around blissfully. The next, however, bursts that bubble wide open. It all starts with the ringing of his cell. Kate’s out on her walk somewhere, and he practically leaps for it in case she needs help.

But it’s not Kate. It’s Smith.

“Castle,” he answers it with a thudding heart. “Did they find out? Is Beckett still safe?”

“Mr. Castle, this was a close call.” Castle breathes a sigh of relief. “Detective Beckett is still protected by the terms of my agreement with these men.”

“Thank you.”

“Mr. Castle, are you prepared to do _anything_ to safeguard Detective Beckett’s well-being?”

“Of course,” he says, surprised by the question.

“Then listen to me very carefully. You need to replace the virus you scrubbed from her laptop immediately.”

“Why?” Castle asks. “Oh! Wait, was that...placed by _them_? Will they know I deleted it? That didn’t even occur to me; I was just in so much of a panic that—“

“Is there a part of ‘listen’ you didn’t understand?”

“Sorry. Continue.”

“That virus was not placed by the men; it was put there by me. I do not know how they will know if she has looked into the case, so it was necessary for me to be able to head her off should she do so—head her off by informing you. Without it, we are flying blind.”

“So you want me to reinstall it? How do I even do that?”

“Write this down, Mr. Castle.” He scrambles for pen and paper. “First, you have to...”

Three dizzying minutes later, Castle sits on the couch doing his absolute best to look not guilty. Kate doesn’t seem to notice—perhaps because she’s exhausted. She certainly looks it. Castle pretends to tap a few keys on his keyboard and fiddle with the power cord. “Come on, come on, not right now…you’ve got to be kidding me!”

“What’s wrong?” she asks, puzzled.

“My laptop is dead because of this stupid flaky power cord, and I have this _amazing_ couple of lines in my head for Chapter Eighteen, and I just can’t get it to work! Can I borrow your computer?”

She rolls her eyes. “Pencil and paper too old school for you? Sure, in my bedroom.”

“Thank you!” Castle exclaims, hurrying to get it. Kate disappears into the kitchen for a glass of water as he returns with it. He opens up a blank page and begins to type, brutally aware that she’s just sat down next to him to look over his shoulder. He makes something up on the fly, and then turns to look at her. “Could you not?”

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh, so it’s okay for you to stare at me doing paperwork but it’s not okay for me to watch you write? Bit of a double standard there, Castle.”

“It wrecks my concentration!”

“And it doesn’t mine?” She lets the response hang in the air for a second before relenting, sliding off the couch and onto the floor to stretch and do her gentler exercises. He sincerely hopes she doesn’t check up on him again.

Castle plugs in his flash drive and goes to the site Smith directed him to, downloading the virus twice—once onto the computer and a second time to the flash drive. He doesn’t exactly trust Smith. If this virus truly isn’t doing anything besides monitoring for Kate looking into her mom’s case, then he’s okay with it. But if it’s doing something else, seeing anything else, really—he’s not going to tolerate this invasion of her privacy. He has a friend in New York City who can tell him all he needs to know, a top-tier hacker whom he consulted while writing several of his books. A veritable treasure trove of information. Maybe there’s even a way to track down Smith through this virus, get Kate the answers she’s been searching for. So she can arrest whoever’s behind this and put it all behind her. Finally receive that last bit of closure.

He ejects the drive and pockets it, deciding to hand it over to the Fox—his hacker’s screen name—when he returns to the city to give his manuscript over to Gina. From now until then, he’ll just have to live with the chance that he’s just stripped Kate of her cherished privacy. Telling Kate about Smith and all the secrets Castle’s been keeping from her is more distant a possibility than ever. In light of the new change in their relationship, he’s less willing to jeopardize the progress they’ve made over the course of three years. Cop and tag-along writer to partners. Partners to friends. Friends to—whatever the heck they are now.

Yes, they’ve come a long way from those first few cases. He’s no longer a jackass. She no longer hates his guts. But one thing’s the same for sure: he’s just as smitten with Kate Beckett as he was when they first met.


	23. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beckett brings Castle coffee in bed, where he promptly puts his foot in his mouth instead of the drink.

Her hand shakes and a few splotches of hot brown liquid sear her skin. She hastily sets the pot down, nursing her burned thumb. The skin is fine, just maybe a little redder than normal, but not too bad. She rolls her eyes at herself, pursing her lips and berating herself for her clumsiness. Deep down she knows it’s not clumsiness that caused the accident, but it’s easier to face that than admit she can’t even pour a cup of coffee.

She sets the pot down again and picks up the two mugs. Then Kate carefully rotates around so as not to spill any on the wood flooring of the kitchen or the carpet. With slow, shuffling steps, she makes her way to the bedroom—her parents’ bedroom, Castle’s bedroom, _their_ bedroom, she doesn’t know what to call it. It used to be her parents’ bedroom, it’s officially Castle’s, and she spends all of her nights in there with him now—so what does that make it? It makes her head hurt just trying to puzzle it out.

She gently pushes the door open with her elbow and perches on the edge of the bed. “Hey, sleepyhead.” Castle blinks up at her, bleary-eyed. He sighs. “Why are you up so early?”

“It’s not early. It’s past eleven o’clock.” He grunts in response. “I didn’t feel you come in last night. How late were you up?!”

“Let’s just say the sun beat me to it. But I did finish Chapter Nineteen. Is that coffee?”

She smiles. “Yeah.” He pushes himself into a sitting position and accepts the cup from her. “So, how many chapters still left to do?”

“Just one.” He takes a sip of coffee. “Hey, why are _you_ the one bringing _me_ coffee in bed? You’re the injured one; I should be serving you. You’re messing with the natural order of things.”

“Castle, if you’re gonna stay with me, get used to me overturning the natural order of things.” A stray lock of hair falls into her face as she smiles cheekily.

He pats the space next to him. “Come on, join me.” He holds her mug as she crawls over to her side and pulls the covers up over her legs. Castle smiles. “See, I could get used to this.”

“Don’t. When we get back to the city, it’s separate apartments for us again,” she warns. “I don’t need everyone and the third cousin asking me why we’re carpooling to crime scenes in the morning.”

“We don’t have to carpool,” he suggests, pouting. “A little harm to the environment seems a small price to pay to sleep with you.” She raises an eyebrow. “And by that I meant actual sleeping,” he clarifies. “Like, in the same bed.”

“A: no, it’s not, and B: I need to stand on my own two feet, Castle.”

He meets her gaze seriously. “Are you actually thinking about this? You’re nowhere close to getting back to the precinct yet. We can wait a while to discuss what happens with us when you do. Besides, by then, maybe we’ll be, you know, _us_.”

Kate frowns, returning her gaze to her coffee. A flare of anger had arisen when he mentioned she was ‘nowhere near’ getting back to the precinct, but she’s willing to overlook it for now. The constant reminders of that are getting tiresome. “I don’t know, Castle. There’s a lot of stuff I have to figure out. Recovery. PTSD. My mom. Just don’t push me.”

“I’m sorry, I—“

“I’m getting in the shower.” She slips her legs out of the bed and disappears out the door. The hot water does clear her mind somewhat, but Castle ambushes her nearly as soon as she steps into the hallway again with freshly blow-dried hair.

“Kate, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to push you. I understand that you have more stuff to sort out than most. I told you I’d wait, and I will. I shouldn’t have assumed we could become ‘us’ as soon as you got back to the precinct. I care about you a lot, and you come foremost, above anything I want from you. Are we...are we okay?”

“Yeah, Castle, I know. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I care...a lot...about you too, and I appreciate your giving me time.” She dips her head and walks to the door, checking to make sure her phone is safely nestled in her pocket.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Walk, like normal,” she says, barely meeting his eyes before disappearing outside.

* * *

Castle watches her go with unease in his heart. Nothing about the way she spoke those last words says ‘we’re good’ to him, but he’ll have to take her word for it. She’s obviously not going to reveal anything else. He sits down at the table to a bowl of cereal and the newspaper on his laptop. He’s halfway through the last mildly interesting article when Gina calls. Please tell me she’s not tightening the deadline, he thinks. “Castle.”

“Rick, we didn’t forget about our deadline, did we?”

“No…” Castle says. “What makes you feel the need to check up on me?”

“Oh, let me think…” Gina drawls. “Last minute Christmas present shopping. Nonexistent grocery shopping in general. Overdue library books. Late dinner reservations. And that’s just from the few years we were married.”

“You wound me,” Castle says, scowling. “I’m almost finished with _Heat Rises_. So get off my case.”

“’Almost finished’ like you were almost finished with _Driving Storm_ when you still had twelve chapters to write? ‘Almost finished’ like you were with _Kissed and Killed_ when you didn’t even have a name for the main character?”

“No, not like that. I’ll get it done, Gina. On time.” Pause, and then he clarifies. “By ‘on time’ I mean by _this_ deadline—not the last three you’ve set me for the book. Those don’t count.”

“You’d better, Rick. My desk, by midnight on the eleventh. Or you just might find your contract with Black Pawn dropped.”

Yeah, right, he thinks. Like Black Pawn would dare drop him—he’s one of their biggest claims to fame. “Just to be clear, do you mean by the first minute of the eleventh or the first minute of the twelfth? Because technically by your wording I’d have to get it to you on Friday the tenth, but by common social phrasing you actually meant by the end of the eleventh. So it’s ambiguous.”

“Only you would think that hard about it, Rick.” She ends the call, leaving him hanging. He supposes it’s no skin off her teeth if he turns in the manuscript a day early because of her ambiguity. Unfortunately for his ex-wife, she and her threats don’t scare him nearly enough to force him to. He supposes he’d better start writing anyway.

“Long walk, what’d you do?” Castle asks as she steps back into the living room an hour and a half later. She has a glass of water in her hand and seems to be moving a bit stiffer than normal. He tries to look her over and assess her physical state without seeming critical. From the way her eyes harden, he’s failed in that regard.

“Desensitization exercises,” she says tiredly. The lethargy with which she sinks down on the couch does not escape him. “Dr. Burke recommended them to me before I left.”

“Tell me about them,” Castle prompts. She looks at him quizzically. “Maybe I’ll use them as fodder for my next book. Maybe Nikki will have some form of PTSD, like you.” He notices she doesn’t seem to like the comparison all too much, so he tries to lighten the mood. “But, unlike you, she’d get shot on the run from mobsters or ex-CIA hit men.” He receives the slightest hint of a smile for that. “Although…” he murmurs, thinking aloud, “I’m not sure Nikki’s the type to get PTSD. She’s too compartmentalized, too tough.”

At once Kate stiffens and anger mixed with hurt flashes through her eyes. He tries to backtrack, correct his poor wording, but it’s too late. She’s disappearing into her bedroom as fast as she can manage. The door slams shut behind her.

* * *

Anger and hurt fuel Kate’s flight, but once the door slams she jumps out of her skin, landing on her bed in a ball. The waves of fury coursing through her negate the shell-shock for once, but as she uncurls she’s completely exhausted. She had been both physically and mentally drained from the walk, and Castle basically calling her weak for her nightmares and flashbacks, as if they were something she could _control_ , is the last straw. If he doesn’t want to stay here anymore because I’m taking too long to get better, then he can leave, she thinks vengefully. She tries to ignore how much her heart flutters with lonely anticipation at the thought.

“Kate,” he knocks at the door. His use of her first name, far from comforting her, only angers her further. It’s been clear that he no longer thinks of her as Beckett, and she had hoped that their growing relation—no, _friendship_ was the reason why. Now it’s clear to her that she was mistaken. Castle no longer thinks of her as Detective Beckett, his muse and inspiration, because she isn’t that woman anymore. She’s just Kate, the fallen cop who needs protecting and can’t get back up. It’s amazing that just a few hours ago she was enjoying his use of her first name and the closeness it brought them.

“Kate, listen,” he begins again. “I didn’t mean that you’re not strong. You’re the strongest, most daring, most enchanting woman I know. I just meant that I might not be able to sell it to the readers. They might not understand that even the best are still human.”

She listens to his placating words but does not deign to open the door. Though his words make sense, she cannot shake her nagging expectation for him to leave. She cannot fully accept that a best-selling author millionaire playboy is staying in a small old cabin to babysit an injured police officer who has so far rejected or indefinitely postponed all of his advances. After a few moments, she hears his footsteps recede back to the living room and she lets out a pent up breath. Though it’s only one o’clock in the afternoon, she decides to take a short nap. For a moment she considers the pain medication on the bedside table but decides to forego it. She can handle a little pain later…even if she’s not Nikki Heat.

It’s at moments like this that she wishes he had never even written those stupid books. Times like this reinforce her thought that maybe feeling nothing at all is better than feeling like this. That’s the way she felt when her mother was murdered. That’s the way she felt when her dad failed to stay sober for the fifth time. That’s the way she felt when he left with Gina last summer.

Some days she worries that she’s cut off her emotions for too long to be able to truly love again. Some days she wishes she could just crawl back into that pit and never emerge. She’s just been feeling so mercurial lately… it’s exhausting.

Her mother always said that life never delivers more than one could handle. But right at that moment, the universe seems to be trying really hard to prove Johanna Beckett wrong:

Kate’s cell phone rings, and she pulls it out of her jacket pocket. She reads the caller ID twice to make sure she’s seeing it right.

Josh Davidson.

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all feedback appreciated <3


End file.
